The air conditioner is back on as the house last night felt hot and stuffy. This morning, despite a slight breeze, it is already 81˚ with 73% humidity. As my father always said, “It ain’t the heat. It’s the humidity.”

I have to go to Hyannis today. To me, that’s like a trip to the big city. It has all the stores Dennis doesn’t, and they will soon add a Walmart. Most times I shop a bit while I’m there, but it is too hot today. Trader Joe’s will just have to wait for cooler weather.

Lately I have been watching YouTube videos about street food in Ghana. The guy doing the narrating and the eating drives me a bit crazy. He constantly smiles and thinks everything is delicious. I want to whack him every time he says awesome or amazing. His Ghanaian guide, though, is excellent. She is finding the best street food for him to try. He just bought a donut of sorts, one of my favorites. Small girls used to carry square glass boxes with wooden sides on their heads filled with those donuts. The guy finished the donut, sort of like eating dessert first, and is now eating a goat soup with okra. As he scoops banku into the soup, the okra slime hangs from his hand. I so remember that slime when I’d eat okra soup, one of my favorites despite the slime. In case you were wondering, the goat meat is awesome. His guide also had goat meat but with fufu. I love everything familiar in the video: hearing Ghanaian English, seeing little kids follow the narrator, walking behind the houses in the villages and listening to the different tribal languages, though here it is mostly Twi. He is now in a cocoa village where he will have lunch. The women are still cooking. The fufu being pounded is plantain and yam. Watching these videos always makes me feel homesick.

Last night I was reading in bed. A fly was in and out around the light and my head. I tried to whack it with a book but missed a few times. Finally I caught it in my hand. I didn’t know what to do with it so I got up, opened the window and threw out the fly who was still quite alive.

This morning I just didn’t want to get out of bed. I lolled a bit then finally around 9:45 reluctantly got up. Henry had awakened me around 6 so I went downstairs to let him out. I was taken aback a bit when I saw my door was wide open. I hadn’t closed it before I’d gone to bed. It’s a good thing no gangs of armed marauders had roamed my neighborhood in the darkness of the night.

The weather is again delightful though the humidity is coming. I wish it would rain.

When I was a kid, I was a bit mouthy, but I thought myself quite witty. My father thought otherwise. He never appreciated my quickness with the bon mot. That I got myself in trouble didn’t matter. I liked the one-upmanship.

Growing up, I mastered all the usual kid stuff like ice skates, roller skates and bike riding. I never did spin the hula hoop more than a couple of times before it fell to the ground.

I haven’t thrown horseshoes in years, but in bygone times I was good at it. Seldom did my horseshoe land far from the post, and leaners and ringers were common for me.

I haven’t miniature golfed in forever, but I still remember my frustration with the windmill. Our windmill had three holes leading to the green, and they were always my downfall. My ball inevitably hit the windmill between the holes and bounced back to me again and again. My co-players would sit on the bench waiting and laughing and doing a play by play.

I also haven’t been bowling in forever. Around here we bowl candlepin with three balls to a frame. One of my balls always ended up in the gutter, a sort of bowling curveball. If I ever got a spare, I wanted to hear We Are the Champions over the loud speaker and spontaneous applause.

I was good at softball. I was a pitcher who had a wicked fastball, and I could play first base. My bat was lively and I could judge most balls well enough to hit them for base hits. This sport, of course, is not a lifetime sport.

I’m best at tripping and falling. Too bad it’s not a sport. I’d always get a ten.

I am loving this weather. My den was so chilly this morning I had to shut the window behind me, but it is already getting warming. The high will be 78˚ and the low 55˚, which I’m expecting will be tonight.

When I was young, I believed in everything. I knew there was a Santa. He left toys under the tree every Christmas and filled my stocking until it bulged. The tooth fairy left money under my pillow. Fairies flitted in the field below my house. There were hundreds of fairies, hundreds of Tinker Bells. I never questioned why a bunny left eggs in my basket at Easter. I saw the Man in the Moon. He always smiled. I jumped over cracks in the roads and sidewalks. I didn’t want to be responsible for my mother’s broken back. My mother led me to believe if I ate watermelon seeds, they’d grow in my stomach, and that I could go blind sitting so close to the TV screen. She told me eating carrots would give me keen eyesight, and if I crossed my eyes, they’d stay that way.  I kept hoping I’d be able to see in the dark. My mother could tell if I was lying because my tongue turned black. I couldn’t get away with anything as she had eyes in the back of her head. It didn’t matter how much I looked. I never saw them, but I figured they were there anyway.

As I got older, I gradually stopped believing. I was never traumatized by learning the truth, and in some cases I was actually relieved. There would be no gardens in my stomach, I’d not go blind watching TV and my mother’s back was safe. I ate carrots and had no expectations. My mother couldn’t see behind her, and my tongue would never turn black.

I now know fireflies aren’t fairies but they still enthrall me. When the first one appears in my backyard each summer, I am always so excited, and I watch the on and off light of that firefly until it disappears, until the firefly flits off too far for me to follow. Christmas is always a joy, a delight of traditions, family and friends, even without Santa. I spit watermelon seeds for distance and for the fun of it and not because of that garden. I still believe there is magic in the world. I have to.

The string of wonderful weather continues. Today is simply gorgeous with a bright sun, a deep blue sky and a temperature cooler and more comfortable than the last few days. Henry woke me up at 4:30 to let him out. Usually I stand on the deck watching him, but this morning I went right back inside the house. It was downright chilly outside.

I have a new summer record. I have been dressed and out of the house three days in a row. Today and tomorrow will add to that record, one which will stand for a long while as I am prone to staying home in my comfy clothes, book in hand and cold drink at the ready. In winter the only change is a hot drink at the ready.

When I was a kid, the summer seemed endless. The days stretched ahead of me waiting to be filled with all sorts of adventures. I went to the library often. I’d ride my bike. I was allowed five books, and I always chose five books. I remember they’d bounce in my bike basket if I went over a bump and every now and then one fell out.

Santoro’s Subs was my favorite place to buy a sub. It was small, and on one side had only a counter against the wall and a few stools if you ate in. On the other side was the glass case with all the sub fillings, and where Mr. Santoro stood taking orders. The shop had an aroma of pickles and hot peppers. Usually I had only enough money for a small sub, and I’d take it to go. It was an Italian sub with pickles, onions and hot pepper.

If I even need to teach the meaning of irony, I have a perfect Henry story. He is prone to pulling the stuffing out of his toys and chewing on what he shouldn’t, like book bindings. After I had found clumps of white down on my bedroom floor, I went right to my  comforter and found it had holes, ragged holes indicative of chewing. I recognized the Henry touch as he had already eaten holes in my beautiful quilt and my around the house cozy pants. I sewed three of the smaller holes right then and left the large hole. The other day I found more down. I was half-changed from my outside to my inside clothes when I decided to sew that big hole. I sat there stitching. Henry was with me and was lying on the bed. My cozy pants were hanging over the end of the bed. After sewing, I grabbed my pants to finish dressing. They felt wet around the waist. I got one leg in and then noticed a large hole had been chewed in the pants. While I was mending the comforter, Henry must have gotten bored and started chewing. I was totally focused on my mending and didn’t notice Henry. To employ a bit of slang, the pants are toast.

Today is warmer than yesterday and is predicted to get hot this afternoon. I am in the den where I spend most of my time. It is at the back of the house so the room is dark and cool. In the afternoon, the sun shifts to the west, and this room gets a full blast of sun and heat. Henry is panting already mostly from running up and down the hall, his pre-bathroom ritual. He just went out. Maddie is sleeping, her ritual for the morning. At 19, she is 92 in human years, and sleeping is her favorite way to spend the morning, afternoon and evening. She does fit eating and drinking in between her naps.

I had a meeting at 9 this morning so I set my alarm. At 7:15 I had an actual rude awakening. My alarm started slowly then the sound intensified. I had no choice but to get up to shut it off.

I’m staying around the house today. My errands can wait one more day. I got three books after the meeting at the library this morning so I can shut out the world and read in the comfort of the air conditioned house.

I watched several end of the world movies the last few days. The meteor strikes were all averted. The lava was stopped. The intensely destructive weather ended, and the sun came out. Right now I’m watching flooding so catastrophic even a boat won’t help. I figure many of these doomsday movies were written by poetry lovers. This Frost poem, Fire and Ice, might be the inspiration.

After my shower yesterday, I smelled like coconut and coffee. The shampoo is coconut and the coffee mixed with coconut is an exfoliating scrub. I bought the scrub at the farmer’s market and was their first customer ever. Now I can’t imagine having a shower without using it. I think I’ll buy another jar as I want one inside and another in the outside shower. Now I need to find lemon and chocolate.

The day is amazing, third day in a row with lots of sun, bearable temperatures and no humidity. The temperature is 73˚. It will get higher but stay in the 70’s during the day and down the 60’s at night. I keep wondering what we did right to receive such gifts as the last three days.

I don’t carry a purse or a pocketbook, haven’t for years. The last one I remember having was a straw bag which was the victim of an attempted purse snatching on my first weekend in Ghana. I can only imagine what perfect targets we both made, the bag and I. There I was walking along a bridge, swinging my bag and swiveling my head to catch all the sights while a nimble thief waited his opportunity. He tried but didn’t get the bag. Later, I ditched the straw for a mesh shepherd’s bag and that’s what I used for the next two years. When I got home, the natural transition was to a small backpack sort of bag. My early ones were nylon with lots of zippered pockets. Later, I got a bit of fashion sense and switched to leather. I still carry one.

The leather bag I have now is my winter bag. It is black with soft, beautiful leather. I bought it in a leather store when I was looking for sandals. This bag has a roomy middle but only two pockets, one inside and one outside, but I still manage to carry all sorts of necessities. Here is a rundown:

In the front pocket are my keys, a pen and a measuring tape. I use the tape to measure furniture I find to see if it’ll fit in a spot in my house. The inside pocket has my cell phone, a watch and a few gift cards left over from Christmas. Everything else is in the roomy middle. Besides the usual wallet, checkbook and glasses, I have a comb, two kinds of lip gloss and some dental floss which tastes like cinnamon. A small notebook is for sudden inspirations as is the case holding blank cards. My change purse has keys, never change. My trips have taught me to keep odd things so I have sanitizing hand-spray, dissolving soap sheets and a couple of toothettes in case I need to brush my teeth. I figure I’m ready for just about any contingency.

Today is another glorious day of sunshine and no humidity. I’m glad I shut the windows downstairs last night as the house was chilly, still is. This morning has been frustrating. My cable box is frozen on a welcome screen. It was the same yesterday as well, but the technician I spoke to fixed it. He and I also had a wonderful conversation about regional dialects and music. He is partial to bluegrass. I wish I knew how to connect to him again as each new Comcast tech I spoke to this morning couldn’t fix the frozen box. The last one, supposedly an upper level problem solving tech, booked an appointment for someone to come to the house on the 13th. That would be no TV until then, no baseball until then and no news until then though that last one may be a blessing.

I have checked my calendar and other than a library board meeting Tuesday morning and a play Friday evening my week is free. That means I get to loll about on the deck. I might get dressed or I might not depending on my mood.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember any day of doing nothing on purpose. Every summer day was filled. I remember being in the woods and spreading out a blanket under the trees and eating the lunch I’d packed and pretending to be camping. Catching grasshoppers in the field was another way to spend a summer afternoon. I’d have my jar in one hand and its cover filled with holes in the other hand. I’d catch a grasshopper with the jar and put the top on lickey split before the grasshopper could jump out. I’d try to catch as many as I could without losing a single jumper out of the jar. I always let the grasshoppers go.

I remember how grasshoppers jumped up and down in front of me as I walked. I remember the chirping sounds they made. I don’t see grasshoppers anymore.

What a glorious morning! The air is cool, a breeze is blowing and the sun is bright in the sky. It is only 70˚ and the day will stay cool with a high of only 75˚. I figure after this last week of heat and high humidity today is a reward from Mother Nature.

Earlier I could hear a basketball being bounced on the street and the sounds of kids’ voices. Henry barked. Any sound is a surprise to him as my street is usually so quiet. Now, the only sounds are birds. Henry and Maddie are sleeping.

All my windows and doors are open. I can feel a cool breeze coming from the window behind me, a north window. It is almost chilly.

I bought a pair of new sneakers, red sneakers. The soles and sides are white, and I love the contrast. I saw the sneakers in a catalog and decided I needed those red sneakers. My summer shoes are really sandals. I have a black pair and a pair with muted colored straps. I wanted real color, bright color, and I got it.

I remember a teacher at the school where I worked. He had actually been my chemistry teacher when I was a senior in high school. It felt weird observing him in the classroom and writing up what I saw. He had changed over the years. The one thing I remember most about him, the older him, was that his clothes never matched. He’d wear a striped shirt with plaid pants or a shirt in a bright color with pants that clashed. We all noticed, but we just chalked it up to him being old. I think in some way my new sneakers came from this story.

My garden has new blooms, two are orange and one is yellow. I stood outside this morning and inhaled the scents of garden. While I was standing there, I noticed my little library door was open so I went over and checked the library. I was glad there was no new bird hole. Everything was fine. There are even new books including a Golden Book. I’m glad people are using my library.

I have no lists for today and nothing planned. I’m going to walk barefoot on the grass. I’m going to sit on the deck and read. I’m going to be lazy.