Today is a pretty and, even better, a warm day at 41°. A slight breeze only ruffles the few brown oak leaves hanging from the ends of the branches. Right now the sky is a lovely deep blue but clouds are expected for the afternoon. I have a couple of errands.

Every now and then I have a perfect moment, a time when everything aligns. They aren’t usually monumental moments though that does sometimes happen, but, rather, they are mostly every day moments. The other night I had a perfect moment. The house was quiet. I could hear the dogs breathing as they slept one on each side of me on the couch. I was reading my new book from Christmas and drinking a cup of coffee. I was content. I could feel it.

When I travel, I love the mornings best. I like to take an early walk. People are going to work, and trucks are unloading, parked on the streets. It is an ordinary day in their lives. As for me, I’m a traveler. No day is ordinary. Every day becomes a memory, starting with the mornings.

I have been crowned sloth queen, queen of the sloths, or any other name you want to use to recognize my ascendency to the throne. I have done nothing in the last couple of days. Oh wait! I did nap a few times, okay a lot of times so I still have tables covered in decorations. My cold is to blame, but my cold is almost gone. I guess I could blame the dogs next.

The fun of Christmas for me has always been the search for the perfect presents for my sisters and my friends. For a few years I stitched all their gifts. I’ve brought back gifts after every trip to Ghana and my trip to Morocco. I like to shop the small stores, the one of a kind stores, to find different gifts. I do love thrift shopping but haven’t done much lately. That sounds like a good way to spend a Saturday.

Nala was playing in the hall with a toy which, when I checked, turned out to be my embroidered Irish harp, a travel gift from friends who are gone. I walked toward Nala all the while pretending I didn’t care. She caught on and ran outside, harp in mouth. I coaxed her inside, harp-less, with a treat and went outside to save the harp. It was just fine, not a mark, but while I was in the yard, I decided to do some clean-up: a dog food can, a couple of paper towels, a paper plate, the headless body of a Santa and the hat still headless from the same Santa. The mystery of it all: where is the head?

I am fighting off a cold. I am at the wheezing, snorting, napping and occasionally coughing stage. Last night I fell sleep sitting up on the couch. I woke up at midnight and, of course, wasn’t tired. Afterwards, to pass the time, I read, played a few games on my iPad and watched more wonderfully bad black and white movies. I went back to bed around six.

When I was a kid, I had a set bedtime on school nights, but I usually cheated. I’d have my flashlight under the covers so you couldn’t see any light, and I’d read. Every now and then I’d surface to cool down a bit. I’d read until I got caught or until I was tired. I’d also use my plastic bed lamp under the covers. It hung over the headboard. I’d move it to under the blanket. get settled and read. Under the covers got really hot. I used to sweat. Eventually, night time usage took a toll. The plastic lamp parts melted a bit. That always perplexed my mother. I never told her. What’s life like without a bit of mystery?

When I was young, every school day went as expected. The only unknown was my lunch. Dinner would be meat and potatoes and a vegetable. We’d have cookies for dessert if any were left. They went quickly in my house. We’d watch a little TV before bed. I swear just about every program was a western. I’d go upstairs to bed, sneak read then fall asleep. The new day would dawn and we’d do it all again. There was a huge degree of certainty.

Christmas is still here but in pieces. Decorations from each room are on tables waiting to be boxed away until next year. The tree, though, is still decorated because its ornaments go into one storage bin of only tree ornaments so they’ll go last, and the other, the scrub pine tree, gets covered as is. The obstacles to my finishing this task are the boxes. They are still in the cellar just waiting to be filled. I need to start carrying the boxes upstairs, filling them then carrying them back downstairs, tasks I keep delaying.

I have no system, except for the trees, for packing Christmas away. That is utterly contrary to everything I do, to all the notes, all the preparations in numbered order by day, lists stuck to the table and everything labeled. Years ago, in my younger days, each box held all the similar decorations like all Santa’s and trees. Each box was taped and labeled. I still have a few of those long ago organized and labeled boxes but which now mean nothing. I put in anything which fits into the boxes including old glass ornaments wrapped in bubble paper. Year to year the filled boxes are packed away, unlabeled. Next year I’ll bring the same boxes upstairs and be surprised when I unpack the decorations Willy nilly stored inside from this year. Surprise is a neat feeling still, especially at Christmas.

Snow started a bit ago, big flakes slowly falling. It won’t amount to much, less than an inch, but it is the first snow of the season. The morning is warm, in comparison to the last few mornings, at 34°. My bird feeders need filling. That’s next.

Henry is afraid of ghosts. No big deal, I’ll just add it to his always growing list of phobias. Let me explain. Both dogs sleep on my bed, Nala under the covers, Henry at the foot of the bed. Nala moves a bit under the spread before she settles. Henry usually jumps on second. Last night was different. Henry was asleep at the foot of the bed when Nala got under the cover and did her usual settling. Henry saw a giant, amorphous, moving lump under the covers. He growled his scary growl. I quickly took the spread off Nala so he could see her. I patted him. He settled down at the foot of the bed. Nala slept beside him with her head out and her body covered by the spread. Ghost dispelled.

I love black and white science fiction movies, especially the ones released in the 50’s. I saw them first hand back then. I loved the monsters and the men who became monsters. The special effects looked real enough in black and white. Aliens were never friendly. Earthquakes were common and many necessitated a trip to the center of the Earth. Much later, Creature Double Feature cemented my love for these movies. I have watched a few of these movies the last few days. Right now I’m watching The Night the World Exploded. I can see what I never saw when I was a kid. The special effects are now easy to see. I see repeat pictures, backgrounds. Moving a set back and forth or up and down is movement, in a train or an airplane. One character is a woman scientist, a beautiful scientist. She and the leading man are thrown together to stop the disaster. At one point they kiss, world crisis averted, romance begun and the movie is over.

I love finding new 50’s movies I haven’t seen or don’t remember. Those special effects now enhance the movies for me. Many are creative. Many are not, some almost silly, but I don’t care. They are fun to watch and enjoy.

I’m wearing a pair of muk luks over a pair of socks, a thick long sleeve shirt under my hoodie and a pair of flannel cozy pants, and that’s just my inside outfit. On a day like today, there will be no outside outfit. We have wind, a cloudy sky and a temperature of 24°.

When I was a kid, the weather never mattered. We all walked to school every day. My father left too early to drive us, and my mother didn’t drive. We never complained. We just accepted the walk as routine. The worst walk was in the rain. I’d arrive at school with wet clothes and sopping shoes. It took all day for my socks and shoes to dry. In the winter, when I was little, my mother bundled me for the walk. I wore layer upon layer from top to bottom, from a wool cap to knee socks. I was warm, but, at school, it took forever to get down to my uniform under all those layers. The next obstacle was finding a hook to hang my clothes on in the clock room. Once all that was accomplished, it was time to sit at my desk for school to start. One memory of school in winter makes me smile. When it was recess time, I’d just grab my coat and run outside, no hat, no mittens, just an unbuttoned coat. My mother would not have approved.

I have always believed in magic, not the rabbit in the top hat magic or witchcraft, but the magic that brings Tinkerbell alive when we clap. I can see the man in the moon, I left my tooth under the pillow. I wrote a letter to Santa, and I believed a rabbit brought eggs and chocolate. Fireflies are magical. When I was young, I’d sit on the hill and watch them light up the field below my house. Now, from the deck, I watch the firefly lights flicker in the backyard. A night with only the sounds of katydids, crickets, cicadas, and, if I’m lucky, an owl, is a magical night. There are no cars, no people and no barking dogs. I sit still and listen, caught in the magic.

I have never been this old before. I am at the, “May I help,” you age. People asked if they can help carry my grocery bags, usually they can. I always underestimate the weight of the bags and overestimate my strength. Things are slower now like walking and remembering, but I adjust. I still believe in magic.

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!