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When summer gathers up her robes of glory, And, like a dream, glides away.”

August 23, 2012

The morning is sunny and warm. This room, still in the shade, is cool and comfy. The nights have been dropping to the 60’s, perfect for sleeping, and will be as cool for the next few days. Crossing off items on my before-I-go list continues. Yesterday three bit the dust; already this morning one more is finished. At least three more will be completed by bedtime, and I’ll be left with the big one: packing on Saturday morning.

Last night was the final play of the season. I have no idea where the summer has gone. When I was a kid, summer seemed to last forever filled as it was with days and days of play. I was always surprised when we went shoe shopping, the first sign of summer’s end and the encroachment of the school year.

My favorite summers were when I was a teacher and didn’t work. Those were my traveling days, and I traveled all over, mostly in Europe, with just a few clothes in a backpack. The trips were usually 4 or 5 weeks long, and I went every summer. I had always dreamed of traveling to the ends of the earth to see the pages of my geography book come alive and those summer trips fulfilled my dreams.

My most amazing summer was training in Ghana where I stepped into a brand new world, something I couldn’t have ever imagined. I remember so well those first few days. They were like a dream. Everywhere was green. There were palm trees and there were lizards scurrying across the walkways in front of me. Women dressed in beautiful cloths and carried baskets and buckets on their heads. Little kids followed us. I remember standing just outside my room, on the second floor of the dormitory in Winneba, and looking below at the rusted tin roofs of the houses. I could see goats and I could see people going about their business. I was enthralled.

I love my summers now. My friends and I are usually on the deck, eating, playing games and laughing. We try to stretch the deck season as long as we can and usually last well into long pants and sweatshirt cold nights. The saddest part is when I have to close down in the fall. It’s the adult version of buying new shoes for schools.

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“There is no mistaking a real book when one meets it. It is like falling in love.”

August 21, 2012

The morning is lovely, sunny and cool. All the animals are having their naps in all their favorite places. Every now and then I can hear a kid’s voice from down the street and a bird or two, but mostly it’s quiet. I love this kind of morning.

I took my time this morning. The day has lent itself to leisure, to reading the papers slowly, missing nothing, and having an extra cup of coffee. I’m staring at the laundry bag in the hall. It hasn’t moved and neither have I. The morning has brought a contentedness and laundry can wait.

When I was young, I loved summer mornings. They were always the coolest part of the day, and they smelled sweet, of grass and flowers and sometimes rain. I was up and out quickly after a bowl of Rice Krispies and a piece or two of toast. Sometimes I went to the playground; sometimes I rode my bike, and sometimes I’d go uptown to the library, a favorite summer spot. It was always cool on a hot day even though it wasn’t air-conditioned. The floor was highly polished tile. The librarian sat at a round wooden station to check out books. She also had a desk near the mysteries. Sometimes she’d sit there and work. The chairs around the tables were wooden and had fancy backs like captains’ chairs. I was always careful not to scrape mine across the floor when I moved it to sit down at the table to browse through a few books. I’d sit there for a while then I’d return those books to the shelves and start to choose the ones to take home. I always took the maximum.

Books never lasted too long for me. I read them quickly, sometimes in a single long sitting. Books held me enthralled and the day passed unnoticed. When I was older, it was the night which passed unnoticed. I remember finishing a book, looking up and seeing it was morning. That still happens to me.

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“Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps. The sleeper must awaken.”

August 20, 2012

Shades of fall arrived last night as the temperature dropped to the 60’s. It will be the same every night this week. When I woke up, I wanted to lounge a bit and enjoy the cool morning, but Gracie was insistent we get up. The day is dark as rain is expected later.

My friend Annie and I went out to eat to celebrate my birthday. She couldn’t believe that we are in our mid-60’s. Most times, unless I have to haul stuff into the house or go up and down the stairs, neither do I. Hearts and minds don’t ever seem to age.

Today is dump day, a belated dump day as I should have gone this weekend. Gracie will be excited as this is her favorite errand.

This weekend was as busy as I have seen it all summer. There were so many people at Stop & Shop you’d think a cataclysmic event was on the horizon  which necessitated stocking up on essentials. Carts were blocking the aisles and people stopped in the middle to chat leaving no way around. I was there because I needed dry cat food and not much else so luckily I was in and out quickly.

Many schools start next week so this weekend was the last hurrah. I can’t believe that two weeks from today is Labor Day, the end of summer, and in the old days, the end of wearing white.

The table in my bedroom is filling up with stuff for my trip. I have mosquito wipes as my feet were eaten last year, pop-up face cloths which I can discard, the iPad international charger, my cameras and their battery rechargers and a new guide-book written by four former Ghanaian Peace Corps volunteers. When I was a volunteer, I always knew the best cheap places to eat and sleep and so do they.  I have tabbed where I want to go and what I want to see. This time I’ll be a tourist up to and back from Bolga. 5 days and counting until my flight!

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“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.”

August 19, 2012

The sun appeared for a few minutes then went into hiding behind the clouds. The day is overcast but still light, none of the darkness of the last few days. A damp chill is in the air and a breeze is blowing. It’s an okay day.

Gracie’s panting was so heavy that she shook the bed and woke me at 1:30. She was gulping so I knew her stomach was upset. It happens every now and then. We went downstairs, and I let her out to hunt for grass to eat to settle her stomach. She came back inside about 20 minutes later, and we went back to bed. In not too much time, the bed began to shake again so downstairs we went and out she went. She came in and we went to bed but she kept moving around as she was unable to get comfortable and then came the panting. By this time it was 2:30, and I had yet to fall back to sleep. I went upstairs and brought down a sheet and pillow and went to try to fall asleep on the couch. Gracie joined me. Neither of us slept. She started panting again. This time she was out so long I went out on the deck to make sure she was okay. It was around 3:30. When she came back in, I fed her some fronds from the spider plant. She ate everyone and then went back outside. When she came in this last time, she went into her crate and stood looking at me. That is the universal sign for a treat so I gave her one which she ate then another. Gracie was just fine. It was 4 o’clock when we both went back to bed.

My dog Duke, when he was pretty old, got into a horrible dog fight with the huge dog down the street. Duke got the worst of it. He had really bad wounds on his neck where the dog had grabbed him. This never happened when Duke was in his younger days, when he was the scourge of the dogs in the neighborhood but age had slowed him down. My mother wanted him brought to the vets; my father said he’d be fine.

In those days, my dad worked on the Cape all week and came home only on weekends. We were moving there but not until after school was finished for the year. When my dad left the Monday after the dog fight, my mother brought Duke to the vet  who took care of the bite wound with a few stitches and a shot or two. By the time my dad got home at the end of the week, the wounds were well on their way to healing. My dad checked out Duke when he got home and said to my mother, ” I told you nature would take care of it.” None of us ever mentioned the trip to the vet’s.

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“Celebrate the happiness that friends are always giving, make every day a holiday and celebrate just living.”

August 18, 2012

Some time during the night the thunder woke me up. It was house shaking, but I didn’t care. I just rolled over and went back to sleep. When I woke up just before 9, it was to a dark, damp morning. It had rained, and I missed it. Outside looks a bit lighter than it had so maybe a bit of sun is on the way though the prediction is for showers.

The countdown to my trip has officially begun. I will be winging my way to Ghana one week from today. The pre-flight list has been activated. Today I will get to cross off two of the items. I know Zoey likes to follow my progress across the world so here are my flight numbers:

Boston to New York, August 25th: Delta Flight 1091 leaving at 5:55pm and arriving at Kennedy at 7:35.   New York to Accra: Delta Flight 26 leaving at 8:30 and arriving at Kotoka at 11:30 am on Sunday, August 26th. There is a four-hour difference between here and Ghana so the flight is close to 11 hours long. My return trip begins on September 17th: Delta 27 leaving Accra at 10:10pm and arriving at Kennedy at 5:05 am. A few cups of coffee and a newspaper later, Delta flight 867 leaves at 8:20am and will wing its way to Logan Airport where I’ll land at 9:44. I’ll grab my bags and then wait for the bus to take me to the Cape, arrival time unknown as I have yet to buy my bus ticket or check the schedule.

My birthday was a wonder. First, my friends and I waited for nearly an hour for the trip that wasn’t. The lobster cruise had been cancelled, and the call announcing that had been made after we’d left so we didn’t know. Neither did the other people waiting. My friend called and was told the news while someone else checked her home phone and found the call had been made at 3:10: boarding was at 3:30 so we all missed the call. We left the marina and tried to figure an alternative. On our summer to do list is the Lighthouse Inn for drinks so we headed to West Dennis. My friends had never been there, but right away they loved the outside tables right on the water. It was so breezy all of the table umbrellas were spinning, and the beach grass was swaying almost to the ground. We ordered drinks and appetizers and watched some people learn to drive their jet skis. Most got the hang of it but one woman was going in circles. The ocean was rough with small white caps, and they were moving her and she let them. She looked afraid to give the jet ski gas. She finally did and went forward a bit then must have panicked as she stopped and went in circles again. She amused us by doing that several times. Finally we lost interest and ordered another round then ordered dinner which was delicious. Our alternative to the boat had been wonderful, and we decided that the boat ride would have been quite choppy given the wind and the size of the waves so we were content on land watching the ocean, the gulls and the woman go in circles.

After dinner we left and went to my friends’ house. They brought out a cake and sang Happy Birthday. I blew out the candles and opened my gift, a calendar filled with pictures of our visit to Fenway Park. To end the evening we played Phase 10, our favorite card game, and I lost. It was the only loss of the night!

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“Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest.”

August 17, 2012

Mornings this time of the summer are lovely. The air is still cool from the nighttime and the sun has a sharpness that highlights even the smallest leaf. My cats sleep sprawled in the sun shining through the front door while Gracie sleeps in her crate and snores loudly enough to be heard here, down the hall in the den.

When I woke up this morning, I rushed downstairs to open the front door expecting to see a planter of mums. I didn’t and was disappointed. My friend has never before failed to leave them on the steps. I stood there bemoaning the morning then I noticed the mums were by the gate. The festivities can begin.

When I was a little kid, I’d rush to the mailbox hoping for cards and hoping to find a dollar or two tucked into each card. It wasn’t being greedy. Back then a dollar meant I could buy two new books, and two dollars was almost wealth beyond comprehension. One grandmother always sent a dollar until I was a teen then she sent five dollars. Even when I was in the Peace Corps she’d slip a dollar or two in the aerogramme which warned about enclosing anything. I doubt she even noticed, but I was always appreciative of those dollars. They were hard to come by in Ghana.

My mother always made the cake. Chocolate was my favorite. We’d sit around the table after dinner with the cake in the middle and the right number of candles on the top. I’d endure the singing. It always embarrassed me a little, still does. After the singing ritual, I’d blow out the candles, my mother would cut the cake, and finally I’d get to open the family presents.

This afternoon my friends are taking me on the lobster cruise out of Sesuit Harbor. It is the perfect day for a cruise with still air and all that sun. My camera battery is charged and ready. Come to think of it, so am I.

Today, in the normal course of events, I would be eligible for medicare!

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“Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.”

August 16, 2012

Last night was wonderful. First came the rumbles of thunder then the lightning. I went outside on the deck for a while and watched the sky being lit up by small jagged bolts. Every now and then a giant bolt of lightning would surprise me as it spread across the sky and lit the night. It rained, slowly at first then with a bit more intensity. I can always judge the amount of rain fall by Gracie. If she stays out, the rain isn’t much. If she runs in, it must be pouring.

Today is drier than it’s been so the air feels cooler without all the humidity. The breeze is ever so slight. I’m thinking the deck and a book will be perfect for today.

I learned to tell time when I was in the second grade. My aunt taught me. Later I found out why. That aunt, always and forever my favorite aunt, gave me a Cinderella watch for my first communion gift. I remember that watch perfectly. It had a light blue band and Cinderella, the face of my watch, was wearing a light blue gown. She was Princess Cinderella. I was thrilled with that gift and would make a big production of bending my elbow and raising my wrist to my face so I could check the time. I wanted my friends to notice my watch and be jealous.

I don’t wear a watch and haven’t for a long time. I have two of them, both gifts. The one I cherish was a 50th birthday gift from my mother. The watch is beautiful with a red band and silver decorations on it and around the watch, also silver. I wear it as an accessory sometimes, never as a timekeeper. The other watch was the proverbial thanks for your service here is a watch. It was a gift from the district when I retired. On its face is a promo for the district. I never wear that one.

When I travel, I generally bring a watch. I pin it to the inside of my bag. In the old backpacking days, I needed to know the time so I could catch a bus or a train. When I got to Ghana, I found out time there is relative. I needed a watch only to know when to teach. I always woke up early so an alarm wasn’t necessary and when I traveled, buses, other than those run by the country, leave when they’re full so a watch is a waste. It only made me impatient. Ghana has two time zones so to speak: European time and Ghanaian time. The first means the actual hour like be there at seven; the second means whenever you get there. It takes a bit of getting used to, but once you do, it makes life so much easier and far less hectic.

I’ll pin a watch to my bag this trip just as I did last year. I like to know the time when the roosters wake me up.

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“The stuff that dreams are made of.”

August 14, 2012

Sorry for the lateness of the hour, but I had a library board breakfast meeting this morning at 10. I actually set my alarm, a jarring way to wake to the day, so I’d have time for coffee and a paper before I left.

It is already getting hot and will reach 84˚ today, not hot for other parts of the country but it is for us, and when you add a bit of Cape humidity, the heat becomes even a bit more miserable.

Last night was movie night. We had appies first and played Phase 10, our favorite of all card games. Supper was chicken and Waldorf salads, perfect for a summer evening. The movie was Night of the Hunter, one of my all time favorites. I love all the angles of the rooms, the play with light and dark, the river and the views of the animals along the river. My friends, who had never seen it or even heard of it, liked it and thought Robert Mitchum creepy and perfectly evil. We munched lemon bars as we watched.

One Saturday matinée I saw was Over the Rainbow. It was probably sometime in the mid-50’s before movies on TV so I knew nothing about the movie. I remember being totally amazed when it went from B&W to color after Dorothy’s house crashed in Munchkin Land. I still think that whole scene is one of the prettiest in the film, and I especially love the flowers.

When I saw Aliens, it was with my friend Annie. We were both sitting there with tubs of popcorn watching Ripley and Burke walk through a lab with specimens in glass containers. One of the specimens jumped at the glass. We all jumped, but my friend Annie was even more dramatic. She jumped so much that her popcorn went flying all over the people in front and in back of us. It was pretty funny and is what I remember most about the movie.

Jaws made me jump as well. It was when Matt Hooper was diving to check out Ben Gardner’s sunken boat and Ben’s face floated out of a hole at Hooper who jumped, and I jumped right with him. The music from that film still haunts me.

I like being scared by a movie because I know nothing will happen to me; I’m perfectly safe. It is, after all, only a movie!

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Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.

August 11, 2012

Yesterday it rained. Last night it poured. I was at the Cape Playhouse to see Kiss Me Kate when the heavy rain started. It pelted the roof so loudly I saw most of the people in front of me look up as if they were expecting to see drops falling. After what seemed like a long time, the heavy rains were finally quiet. By the time the play was over, the ground had absorbed most of it.

This morning we still have rain, small intermittent drops of rain. Condensation is on the outside of my windows from the AC  interacting with the humidity. It’s what I call the glasses effect. When I leave the cold car, my glasses fog over and I can’t see. I stop and wipe them before I bump into someone or something. It always amuses me a bit.

In the summer, my mother was reluctant at first but after a while was only too happy to let us out of the house when it rained. When we were stuck inside, boredom settled in quickly then the fights started, the he called me this and she called me that sort of fight. My mother always yelled for us to stop, and that worked for a few minutes but then back we’d go to sniping at each other. We’d ask if we could go outside, and she usually agreed. With us gone, peace was restored in the house.

We’d put leaves or paper boats in the gutters and watch them float down the street. We’d whip branches and soak each other. Sometimes we’d take our bikes and ride as fast as we could through puddles so the spray would fly into the air on each side of the bike. We got soaked.

When we’d go back into the house, my mother would make us take off our sneakers then she’d send us upstairs to change into dry clothes. Our feet were usually so wet we always left footprints on the wood floor. I always liked that part.

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“I cook with wine, sometimes I even add it to the food.”

August 10, 2012

The morning is dark and humid with thunder and lightning storms possible tonight and tomorrow. Everything is still and quiet. Today is a favorite sort of morning. From the deck, I can even smell the ocean.

I clip recipes from newspapers, magazines and even grocery flyers. I keep them in a folder bursting at the seams. Periodically, while watching TV, I go through the folder looking for something new to try. I make piles of the possibles: appetizers, meats, sides and desserts. This summer I’ve tried different appetizers and just about every one of them was a keeper. It’s fun for me to read the ingredients and imagine how the food will taste and how well dishes will go together. I’m going to be working on movie night’s dinner today.

While growing up I was never interested in anything having to do with cooking or sewing or any sort of handwork like knitting or crocheting, and my ineptitude was of little concern or consequence. My mother did it for me; however, that changed when I got to college. I had to be inventive. I learned solutions for all sorts of problems. Lose a button? Use a stapler. A hem falling? Use tape. Need to make dinner? Open a can, and I was not alone in a total lack of housewifery skills. My friends shared the same ineptitudes as I did and none of us really cared.

The first time I ever did any real baking was at Christmas time in Ghana. I made cookies. They were delicious so I expected a parade celebrating my new skill, but, alas, there wasn’t one. I had to be content with eating and sharing the cookies. The next year I even made pies for Thanksgiving, paw paw pies. I made my own crust for the very first time and rolled it out using a beer bottle, a Star beer bottle, a make-do innovation. The pies were delicious. I was hooked on baking. It seemed I had a hidden talent now brought to light by circumstances like no super-market.

It’s been a long time since then, and I have honed my cooking and baking skills. I can make almost anything and make it well. I love trying new recipes and have enough confidence to make them for company. As for the other housewifery skills, I still need a stapler and tape for those unexpected sewing problems. They’re in my sewing basket, my very large sewing basket.

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