Today is cold, no surprise there. The high will be 26°. Where did I put that sunscreen says I playfully? The low will be in the teens. Sunny was the forecast, but the sun has yet to make an appearance. Days like this get tiresome, energy sapping.

Yesterday I was feeling nostalgic. I went through what we call the mug book, a booklet given to us by Peace Corp. It was an introduction to my training group with a picture of each of us and a brief bio. I counted how many of us there were. I know one person accepted the invitation to Ghana later so he missed the book, but I counted him. That made it at least 130 trainees. I read the bios yesterday. The oldest of us was 35, the youngest 19, but most of us were 21 or 22. Many had worked on farms during the summers. Science majors outnumbered the English, social studies and humanity majors. We all came from a variety of states. Some graduated from big time colleges but more of us went to small schools, mostly unknown schools. I remembered many but a few I swear I never saw. I remember one trainee leaving after the first two weeks. One volunteer died during our second year in a motorcycle accident. He was on my bus, standing in the back, on the way to the airport to leave for Ghana. I don’t know about most of the volunteers I had served with. I wish we all had stayed in touch.

This is a slow week for me. I have no events and no meet-ups, just the usual, uke practice and a lesson. I have started taking Christmas down and have two rooms worth of decorations on the kitchen counter. I need to haul boxes. I need incentive, maybe a Snickers bar as a reward. That would get me moving.

We’re in the throes of winter. The high today will be 30°. The morning is cloudy, dark and cold, another uninviting day. The backyard oaks and pines are stark silhouettes framed by the sky. I have to go out to do some errands, three stops worth of errands. I wish I could just stay home, warm and cozy, but alas….

Henry seems a bit better. He still tilts his head, but he also wags his tail and looks for treats. This morning I managed to give him two of his pills. He spit out the third one even though it was hidden in a piece of sausage, good Italian made in store sausage. I’ll try later.

When I was a kid, I was mostly happy with my lot in life. I had every necessary kid thing, a sled, roller skates, ice skates and a bike. My bike was my favorite. It took me everywhere. It was blue and had been a Christmas present. It had a basket in the front, big tires and back brakes on the pedals. I remember hitting the brakes in sand on purpose to leave an arc. I have so many memories, filled drawers worth of memories, of my travels and adventures on that bike. What I don’t remember is what happened to it. I suspect it had reached the end, done in by use and time. I didn’t get another bike until years later. It is in the cellar waiting for another adventure.

All our sleds were both wooden and metal. They had metal rails and metal across the top which held the wooden steering piece. You could steer the sled right or left. I seldom did. It was a straight away down the hill. We all had the same sled technique. We’d stand behind our sleds at the top of the hill then jump on, stomach to the sled, hands on the steering bar, knees bent and feet straight up in the air. We went fast down the hill, the wind whipping our faces, the sled’s runners slicing through the snow and shooting shards of ice into the air. It was exhilarating.

People are kind. When I have heavy bags of groceries or trash bags in the trunk to dump, people always offer to help. I used to say no thinking I can do it myself. That’s the conundrum. In my head, I am young, the same me I have always been, but my body is older, old. I just can’t lift things anymore. I drag things like dry dog food or push the heavies with my foot or carry things a few at a time into the house. I need a housekeeper.

The morning was hectic. The dogs had a scuffle on Friday. Nala was unscathed, but Henry had an ear bite. I didn’t notice until Saturday. I washed his ear and put an antibiotic on it, but it wasn’t much better today so off we went to the emergency vet. He was checked, prodded and evaluated. We left with three medications, poor Henry in a cone and a mortgage for my house so I could pay the bill. Nala didn’t recognize Henry at first, but after she did, she tried to chew on the cone.

Today’s trip to the vet reminded me of a vet trip with Duke, the boxer we had for most of my childhood. Duke was a fierce dog. He was protective of us all, but mostly of us kids. The dog down the street and Duke did not get long. They ended up having a tremendous fight which had both dogs grabbing and biting each other’s neck. It also included rolling on the grass. When the fight ended, Duke had a huge bite on his neck. My mother wanted to take him to the vet’s. My father said it would heal naturally. The next day my father left for Maine, where he was working during the week. My mother took Duke to the vet’s where his injury was cleaned and sewn. He was given a shot and sent home with medication. By the time my father got home late Friday, Duke’s injury looked great and was healing. He took one look at Duke’s neck and said to my mother, “See, I told you nature would heal it.” She never said another word. My poor father had been duped yet again.

Sadly, I had decided I put Christmas away today except for the tree which would come down after Little Christmas. I had a plan. First I’d bring up every bin then decide what should go where. I’ll put the whats away and label the bins. I had done this years ago but got willy-nilly about the where’s for the what’s except for the tree ornaments. They have their own bins with tissue paper and small boxes. Each, especially the glass ornaments, is carefully wrapped and put away. I love my ornaments.

When I was a kid and back to school after Christmas, I’d get home one afternoon and find the living room had lost its magic. The tree was gone. The chair and TV had been moved back into place. The tree’s corner was dark. It was just a living room again. I never saw the tree being take down. My mother removed all the lights and ornaments while we were in school. I remember the tree was tossed sideways on the tops of the trash bins. Its icicles used to hang straight down. They blew in the wind. The tree was gone on trash day.

Winter has arrived. The real cold is now here. The high today will be 31°. Right now it is 29° and cloudy, but the forecast is for sun. I’m hoping the sun will hang around so I don’t mind the cold as much.

Henry has developed a few more phobias. He will not come in by the dog door except for the few times he comes in impatiently when I don’t hear him crying and whacking the cover. Mind you, he has been coming in that door for years. Next fright is the cord to my iPad. Because the cord is a little bit in the air, he won’t walk over it to get to the couch. I unplug it and hide the wire so he jumps on the couch, but if he is still on the couch when I plug it back in, he jumps off, over the cord of course. The last new phobia is his fear of the unknown hiding under the spread on my bed. Nala likes to get under the spread. Twice she has stood up to move to get comfy. Both times Henry jumped up and growled his I’m going to attack growl. I took the spread off Nala so Henry could see her, and I grabbed him and quieted him down. The other night I was moving my toes. Henry jumped up growled and got ready to attack whatever was under the spread. I saved my toes. I don’t move them anymore.

When I was a kid, a new year didn’t mean much. I never really understood the hoopla. My routines stayed the same. Nothing changed except the date and eventually, in the summer, my age. I’d be a year older. The memories of those years sort of run together, but I do have memory drawers with bright lights and decorations. They hold fast to the memories of important years, to life changing years. The drawers are labeled 1961, 1965, 1969, 1971 and 2004. I’ll save them for anther time.

Here I am in 2025. I was awake for the new year, but I was working on a puzzle so I missed it. I greeted the new year at 12:03. At this stage of my life, I am old by number of years so I greet each new year and all the adventures ahead of me. I do have a few memory drawers just waiting to be filled.

Happy New Year!

I would like to thank all of you for dropping by to visit Coffee every day. Some of you have even been hanging around since 2004 when the Sox won the World Series, I retired and Coffee made its debut. You might remember when Blogger unceremoniously erased Coffee in 2010. I was totally discouraged, but after a few tears and several curses, I decided to keep going, well, specifically to Keep the Coffee Coming, so we moved to WordPress. Several of you found me and Coffee was saved.

Each New Year makes me feel hopeful. I know this probably sounds like pie in the sky or the less common cliche castle in the air given last year, but I’ll still cling to that bit of hope.

Last night it poured, and the wind was terrific. Today is dark and rain is predicted. It is not the most auspicious weather to start the year, but it is warm and not snow so I’ll take that.

Today is a sloth day. I have no to-do lists by choice. I’m going to read my new book, wear my cozies and eat a bit of chocolate, remarkable ways to welcome a new year.

I give you thanks and I wish you joy!

Today is a lovely day to say goodbye to one year and welcome another. The air is so calm the backyard could be a painting, a still life of pines and oaks and brown leaves. The sun is wonderfully bright. The sky, in Crayola speak, is the color blue sky, okay, I even looked it up. If I were a year, I’d love this as my last day.

I have a concert tonight. There are two today, but I can’t leave the dogs alone for so long and way pass their dinner time to go to both concerts. I wish I could. I really enjoy concerts, and these are our last concerts for a bit.

I don’t make resolutions. I used to when I was young, but now, I’ll just keep who I am. I’m content.

I don’t remember when I last partied on New Year’s Eve. I do remember it was a neighborhood progressive party, one where each house served a different course for dinner. I was after the appetizer stop. I offered chili, Texas chili without beans. Two houses later we finished off the meal with dessert. We played games that night. We toasted the new year and raised our glasses high. I think in the history of New Year’s Eve celebrations that one was perfect.

I remember another year when my mother and I did first night in Reading, the next town over from my mother’s. It was their first, first night celebration. We wandered all over town, warm enough in our layers. We stopped at just about every venue. We had donuts and hot chocolate at one stop. We lingered there. We saw a few bands and a bit of a play. We had a wonderful night. I loved spending it with my mother.

I’ll be home tonight. I’ll raise my glass, happy for another year. They are all so precious now.

The rain started last night. It was loud on the roof, a sound I love. This morning the rain was light, almost misty at times, but had since gotten a bit heavier. It will be around most of the day. I was surprised when I let the dogs out at how warm it is, 50°. I do need dry dog food and dog biscuits, but I haven’t decided whether to go today or tomorrow.

When I was a kid, the tree was lit every night after Christmas through New Year’s. The smell of pine filled all of downstairs, but I knew, after New Year’s Day, the tree was doomed, destined for the trash heap. My mother thoughtfully waited until we were back in school before she undressed the tree, before she took down the ornaments and lights. It was a shock to come home to an unlit, undecorated tree standing against the wall. I remember how dark the living room looked and how naked the corner was after my father unceremoniously dumped the tree in the trash outside. I have a picture in my head of the first trash day of the new year. Trees leaned on trash cans up and down the street. Icicles blew in the wind. I felt sad.

Growing up, I never understood the hype around the new year. For me, it was the last day of vacation, not a day to celebrated. Once back in school, I had to remember to put the new year’s date on my papers. It took a few days to shake off the old year.

I don’t celebrate the new year now. I sort of just let it happen. I’ll turn a year older. My head won’t notice but my body will. I used to haul in 50 pounds of cat litter. Now I drag in 20 pounds. I always think I can do what I used to do but I can’t, but that’s okay. I get another year of trying.

It rained during the night. Today is cloudy and dark, but it is warm, mid 50’s. I have no choice but to go out. The larder is empty, no bread, no cream, no cheese, nothing. I need to shop. It is dump day, finally. I have a few more things to load into the trunk. One is a box of litter from Jack’s room upstairs. It is heavy so I take it downstairs one step at a time. Today I miscalculated. I thought I was at the bottom of the stairs but was three steps away. I stepped down on nothing and hit the deck. I cut my hand. It was not an auspicious start to the day.

When I was a kid, I loved my Christmas pajamas. They were usually two piece flannel with a top and bottom. I also loved my new slippers. The tops were wool and the bottoms leather. I always felt cozy. I love cozy. It has become my lifestyle.

I loved the new books I got every Christmas. I remember the year of Little Women. Once I started it, I couldn’t stop reading. I loved Jo the best. She was fearless and outspoken. She was always a bit messy with her skirt askew. I could see myself as Jo. This Christmas, as with every Christmas in my memories, I got a new book. It is from my sister who continues the tradition. It is the new Patricia Cornwell. A perfect choice.

We always hoped for snow and ice for the week after Christmas. That meant sledding and ice skating. We lived in a perfect sledding spot, close to the top of a long hill. We’d pull our sleds to the top, jump on and whiz down the hill. At the bottom of the hill was a road and a fast ride down sometimes had our sleds crossing the road into the field. Any kid already at the bottom would watch for cars. We’d drag our sleds back up the hill for another run. We’d be at it all day until the sled rope had a layer of ice, our mittens were soaked, and we were cold. We’d go into the house through the cellar where we’d leave all our wet clothes. The sled was left upright in a pile of snow. My mother made us cocoa with a dollop of marshmallow. I’d let the marshmallow melt across the whole top of the cocoa before I drank it. I always got a marshmallow mustache.

The rain is back. It started early. It is a warm morning and will get warmer, as high as 44°, winter warm. It will be rainy all day. Today will be my dump day. I’m thinking the rain will keep people away. On Saturdays, usually, you have to wait in line to dump your trash. It is a strange world where you wait in line to dump your trash.

Christmas always brings back so many memories. Last night I sat looking at the tree for a long while. I’d see an ornament and remember. My friend Michelle, with whom I served in Ghana, visited once and gave me three round ornaments from Ghana. They are covered with decorated leather, red and black worn leather. She said I would use them as she never has a tree. They are always on my tree. One year my mother and I went to Italy. I bought a Pinocchio wooden ornament for her in Florence where Carlo Collodi, the author, had lived. She bought me the same ornament. The hand stitched and cloth ornaments are away from Miss Nala’s reach. Sherlock Holmes and Mark Twain are papier-mâché busts. Twain has a book. Eleanor Roosevelt, Edison, George Washington, Hitchcock, Queen Elizabeth, King Henry and a lady who holds a sign, Vote for Women, are all at the top. Captain Hook and Peter Pan hang beside each other. The Wicked Witch from the West is near Hook.

One of the unexpected ornaments is a glass bust of Ruth Baden Ginsburg. She is wearing a bit of her robe and a lacy jabot. Fun ornaments are from Panama, a crab, a croc, a seahorse and an ugly Santa with string hair. Every Christmas, when I decorate the tree, I get to remember the family I’ve lost, the friends who are gone, the travels I’ve taken and all the other Christmases.

When I was a kid, after Christmas was quiet. Our gifts stayed under the tree for a few days, and I’d sit under the tree playing with them or reading a new book. The lights reflected on some of my gifts. It was warm under the tree from the big colored bulbs. Sometimes I fell asleep.

One of the sure signs of the end of Christmas was turkey soup. We had eaten the turkey dinner on the big day, had another dinner the day after, ate open turkey sandwiches awash with gravy, ate other sandwiches with turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing and toasted bread. My father would bare the turkey of meat, and turkey salad sandwiches were next and were delicious. My mother would then make the soup. After that, the bone was unceremoniously trashed.