Keep the Coffee Comimg

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.

The hoopla has ended. The Fourth of July 2018 is now a memory. It was a wonderful evening. We chattered through all three courses. The deck looked festive white lights, spinning pinwheels, a flag banner, red, white and blue flowers on the table, and a star studded tablecloth on what is jokingly called the buffet table, actually an old wooden ironing board I bought for such occasions. I did some clean up in between but much of it was left until this morning when I scoured the kitchen and put away some stuff, all before I got to my newspapers, coffee and toast. I need to clear the deck next, but there is no hurry.

Today there is a breeze, and it is only 82˚, a cold front. Toward the weekend it will get even cooler, and there may be rain.

Yesterday proved I am old. After working on dinner and the deck most of the day, I couldn’t even stand up straight because of my back. I looked like illustrations of the old witch in Hansel and Gretel but without the babushka.

When I was a teacher, I traveled every summer, usually for four or five weeks. Mostly I did Europe, but during the summer of 1976, I was gone 7 weeks and saw much of South America from Venezuela to Brazil. It was a remarkable trip. We just about saw everything on our list. One high point was Machu Picchu which had very few tourists in those days. Americans had yet to find it; in fact, we saw very few Americans on the whole trip except for the US ski team which was staying at the same hotel we were in Buenos Aires. They had been skiing in Chile. We met the PanAm director of South American who was saying good-bye to the PanAm offices as he was retiring. We met him in Paraguay, in Asunción, when he asked to join us for coffee. He said he needed some English for a while. Another high point was the boat trip down the Parana River from Paraguay to Argentina. Only two people on the whole boat could speak English, a French Canadian and a British woman who lived in South America. It was the best cruise. The ship was small and old, but they did have big cruise festivities. One night was the movie The Producers in English with Spanish subtitles. That was fun to watch. The last night was the parade of passengers, all dressed in their finest. We looked like bums.

I admit it. I have been watching Hallmark Christmas movies. They all have happy endings. Every house is decorated beautifully even the houses of Grinches who get their Christmas spirit by the end of the movie. Strangers fall in love and kiss in the glow of Christmas lights. Comets light the sky. Reindeer come home.

This morning, even before my coffee, I went shopping to get the stuff I need for tomorrow’s gala, for our celebration of the Fourth. I found everything I need and a bit more. It took three trips to lug the bags of groceries from the car. The fridge is now full, not even a small space is available. Even the vegetable drawers are filled. Later, I’ll go over my recipes and make a flow chart. I can’t cook a big dinner without a flow chart.

Today Coffee celebrates July 4th as I won’t be posting tomorrow, my day off.

I have traditional posts for most holidays. When I try to write something new, I find I can’t do better. It seems I poured all of my feelings and memories into the very first post. One of my favorite memories is when I marched with St. Patrick’s Shamrocks, a competitive CYO drill team which also marched in local parades including the one in Wakefield on July 4th. One of my parents’ friends had a house on the parade route. Everyone would be on the lawn or the front porch to watch the parade. When St. Pat’s marched by the house, everyone yelled my name. I was both embarrassed and delighted. That’s one of my favorite memories of the day.

I just love birthdays and today is the grandest of them all. Happy Birthday, America.

On July 3rd 1776, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife Abigail. In it, he predicted the celebrations for American Independence Day, including the parties:

“It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other.”

John Adams expected July 2nd to be Independence Day as that was the day the Second Continental Congress voted for independence, but the signing ceremony for the Declaration of Independence didn’t happen until two days later so because July 4th appears on the Declaration, it became the date we celebrate Independence.

I know some people complain that the meaning of the day is lost in the barbecues and the fireworks, but they have forgotten John Adams’ hope. We are honoring the day exactly as he wished. Flags are waving everywhere. Families get together to celebrate and to break bread, albeit hot dog rolls. Fireworks illuminate the sky. Baseball is played on small town fields and in huge stadiums. Drums beat the cadence in parades. We sing rousing songs celebrating America and our freedom. We also sing heartfelt songs about what America means to us. We are many sorts of people, we Americans. We don’t all look the same, practice the same religion, eat the same foods or dress in the same way, but we all celebrate today. Happy Birthday, America, from all of us Americans.

The air conditioner is off and the windows are open just to let in the morning air. The day is lovely right now. It is still cool enough, but that will give way to the heat, another day in the 80’s. I’m not complaining though, as Boston will have its fourth day in the 90’s.

I have to go to the dump later. My trunk is filled with bags of trash, and I have one more to load. In the winter the dump is the tundra with cold winds blowing across. In the summer it is the desert, a wide expanse of empty land with the hot sun beating down on you.

This is the first week of tourist season. I hope it doesn’t rain. When it does, the roads because impassable with all those tourists riding around looking for something to do. Sitting in a small cottage playing yet another game of Monopoly gets boring, and the open road beckons. The movie theaters get filled, the bowling lanes have waiting lines and the shops have customers looking for Cape Cod t-shirts, decorative shells and bottles of Cape Cod air. I hibernate on rainy days.

We never came went to the cape for vacations. We mostly went north to Maine or New Hampshire, but I do remember our one vacation in Vermont. We stayed at a huge, old white house set back on a small road across the street from a lake which I remember as enormous, but I was only eight and much of the world was enormous. My dad used to take me swimming with me on his back. I’d wrap his arms around my neck. He’d dive deep in the water. I was delighted. I could see small fish swimming all around me. We’d stay submerged until I tapped his back telling him I needed air. I also remember the kitchen had an old fashion phone, the sort which needed to be wound up to get a connection. It didn’t work, and when I lifted it I sometimes got a shock. That’s why I remember it. We spend our days outside. We hunted frogs at the creek which ran beside the house and got muddy all over then we’d go across the road and wash it all off at the lake. We ate outside on the porch which ran around the whole front of the house. Even though I was young, this vacation has stayed vivid in my memory banks. I can still remember those frogs with long legs. I needed both hands to hold one.

The day was already hot at 9:30: it was 85˚. I am not venturing out today. I’m staying  comfortably in my air conditioned house. My feet are cold and I don’t even mind.

Henry is still saving me. The firecrackers last night had him barking, but after the bangs went on for a while, he decided I was safe enough and went to sleep. This morning it was the sound of my newspapers hitting the ground. He barked a few times then went back to sleep secure in the knowledge he had done his job.

I learned to swim when I was little. My Dad taught me. He was the best swimmer I knew. When we stayed in Maine, he’d body surf at the beach. I’d watch from the shore while he waded in a bit and then while he stood in the water waiting for the perfect wave. When it came, he’d dive in at the top and let the wave bring him to shore.

I remember him tossing me in the ocean. I was little, and I thought it was swim or die even though he was right there with me. I swam. From then on I was a swimmer.

Learning to swim, to ride a bike, to roller skate and ice skate were high points for me. I was good at most of them, but I never was a great ice skater. I could manage to keep my ankles upright and to skate backwards, but I never hit the heights I imagined I would. I saw myself gliding across the ice, my leg stretched out behind me in a ballet move, my arms and hands making and breaking a circle in front of me as I glided on the ice. It was beautiful, but it was imaginary. The truth was I’d probably fall if I dared to try to skate on one leg. I knew my limitations.

I could ride my bike with no hands. It took a while to learn. First I tried riding one-handed. When I mastered that, I tried no handed. On the way to mastering no-handed, the handlebars would turn, and I’d have to grab them or I’d fall. I used to keep my hands close to the bars just in case. Finally I was able to shift my body to the right place to keep my balance. I’d hold my arms straight out. Later, I’d just let them hang next to my body. I thought I looked cool and nonchalant.

My niece bought her son a two wheeler without training wheels. His big adventures are about to begin.