It rained earlier, but I missed it. The sun was here, but it is now gone. The wind is blowing even the tallest branches. Today is not the best of days, but it does have one saving grace. The temperature is warmish at 64°. The house was colder than that when I woke up so I turned on the heat. It is still blasting. I’ll turn it off once the house is warm.

My larder is just about empty. I see a trip to the grocery store in my near future. I need bread, the staff of life, because I ate the last piece this morning, toasted. I need cream for my coffee and peanut butter. I’m also thinking hot dogs and rolls, my go to dinners.

The uke dominates my dance card this week. My practice is tonight, my lesson tomorrow and a concert on the weekend. We are singing cowboy songs this month. One of them is Happy Trails. I remember Roy on Trigger and Dale on Buttercup singing that song at the end of their TV show while they were riding off, proverbially, into the sunset. Another dance card entry is for Friday, shot day for flu, Covid and RSV.

The shot day I remember most was just after I got to Ghana. On the first or second morning at our Winneba training venue, the cafeteria tables were moved into an L shape. The area behind the tables was manned by needle toting health aides. We were in one giant line which went slowly because of the stops at each vaccine station. I got typhoid, paratyphoid, diphtheria, tetanus, rabies and the easy one, polio vaccine. In a separate room we got gamma globulin as it was a butt shot. We had gotten yellow fever before we left the US. We also started anti-malaria pills, aralen. The day after these shots I had a fever as did most of us.

Before our travels to South America, my friend, who was my fellow traveler, and I got shots. We had to drive to Boston to get them. I don’t remember how many we got, but I do remember it was in two visits. My friend was afraid of needles. After each shot she had to put her head between knees so she wouldn’t faint. All I could think of was that day in Ghana. She would never have lasted that line-up of shots.

Today, despite the bright sun, is chilly at 62°. The chill will stay around all day, but I don’t mind as I’m warm in my trusty sweater shirt and socks and have no inclination to go outside.

This morning I had my usual cups of coffee and I added toast. I don’t know why, but the toast reminded me of breakfast in Ghana. It was the same every morning, but I didn’t really mind. The water for my coffee and the eggs were cooked on a small round charcoal burner. The bread was toasted by leaning it around the burner. The eggs were fried in groundnut oil, peanut oil here. They were delicious. I’d also have another cup of coffee after teaching my first class. My house was on school grounds, a walk of a couple of minutes from the classroom block. I always went home between classes.

Lunch was fresh cut fruit: bananas, oranges, pineapple, pawpaw (papaya) and mango. That was the first time I tasted mango and papaya. Probably even the first time I ever saw them. The oranges were small, sweet and green. I remember mountains (slight exaggeration here) of oranges for sale in the market.

Dinner was generally beef but sometimes chicken. The beef was cooked for a while in a tomato sauce to help tenderize it, but you could also rub the beef with pawpaw, a natural tenderizer. I always had yam, mashed yam. I’d slather it with margarine, butter being an expensive import, as the yam was usually dry. I drank water at lunch and dinner.

For sweets, I could buy Cadbury chocolate bars or Tree bars from Ghana. I also used to buy Fan ice cream, a term used loosely here, in small triangular packages. They were sold by bike riding vendors with a freezer box on the front of their bikes. I also bought bofrot, sold by small girls from a wooden box with glass sides carried on their heads. The bofrot were puffy and round like a donut hole. They are still one of my favorite Ghanaian foodstuffs.

My all time favorites are jollof rice and kelewele. I never tired of them. On all trips back I did the same, eaten my fill as often as I could. On my last trip I think I had jollof rice every dinner.

Today is chilly, fall chilly. The wind is strong. I can the chimes from my backyard. They have a sweet sound. The dogs are outside enjoying the weather. Last night they went wild. Henry leapt off the couch and moved quicker than I’d ever seen him. Nala followed. They barked at the front door then ran out the back. This went on for a while. I knew they had sensed a critter. Henry was protective. Nala was thinking prey. I opened the front door but saw nothing. This morning I checked, and the trash bag by the steps had been opened and a few things pulled out. The bag goes into the trunk today for my next dump run.

I can hear all of you scolding me, but I chose caution so you can save your scolding for another day. It all started yesterday when I noticed my ceiling light in the kitchen was too dim. I pulled out my old step ladder and placed it as close to under the light as I could. I climbed two steps. The ladder moved from side to side. Knowing my history, I took the movement as a warning and got off. I have another step ladder, a good one, a safe one, but it is heavy and was in the closet. I got it anyway. Changing the dead bulb was the worst experience, but here I am unscathed.

My father never let a lack of ability stop him from from trying to repair house problems. I remember when he worked on the toilet. Afterwards, my mother called a plumber who wanted to know who destroyed the insides of the toilet. He got shocked a few times when he tried to fix lights. When I was younger, he cut all his fingers on one hand trying to fix the fan. My favorite was when I looked out the window and saw him sitting on a branch and sawing it. I called my mother over to watch. My father was sitting on the wrong side of the branch. He was sawing himself out of the tree. He hit the ground, but it was only a little way below the branch which is why I didn’t tell him.

My dance card is fairly empty this week. I have uke practice and a lesson, and those are the only events. I do have chores, but I am of the mindset that chores can always wait.

The day is dark, and it is already raining though only a little rain so far, a spitting rain. The morning is warmish at 67°. The air is still. I’m staying home all day. I have a few things I can do around the house, but I’m waffling between being a sloth and being productive.

When I was a kid, the future was tomorrow except for the countdowns to special days like Christmas and Halloween. I had a regimen every weekday of school and after school play time. I never really complained. It wasn’t as if I had a choice. Besides, I liked school. Saturday was my day. It was anything I wanted it to be. Sunday was family day, staying around the house for Sunday dinner and maybe Sunday visits with family. The weeks were the same, but I was every kid.

I lived in a project, one with duplexes. We all had lawns, backyards and clotheslines. There were kids everywhere. I never really noticed we didn’t have much money. We had everything we needed. We had a few away vacations, but most were daycations to special places like museums and lakes and the beach. We went to the drive-in almost weekly. When I was 15 or 16, we went to Niagara Falls. That was our biggest vacation ever. I still remember my dad talking to a wax figure when he was trying to buy tickets to Madame Tussauds. He asked over and over, more impatient and louder each time. That is one of my favorite Dad stories.

I have fulfilled the childhood promise I made to myself, the one to travel, but my expectations back then were low. Traveling for weeks in South America and living in Africa for over two years never entered my head. I was thinking England. How lucky I have been.

We are still enjoying the most amazing weather. It is already 70°. The sky is partly cloudy, but every now and then the sun owns the sky and highlights all the leaves and trees. I am going to the dump today, to Agway to buy some cat food and one more stop for a few groceries, boring errands at best.

Last night Henry came inside but Nala didn’t. I was a bit worried as I still have Gracie and her jumping the fence in mind so with flashlight in hand, I went Nala hunting. She didn’t come when I called. I flashed the light all over the yard and finally saw her in the dark the back. I could also see something in her mouth and saw it was a possum. I didn’t chase her but kept approaching her. She dropped it, and I dragged her into the house. Later I went outside and moved the possum to the driveway out of the yard. I thought I saw it move but I wasn’t sure. This morning it was gone. I hope it was on its own feet and not in the mouth of a predator.

My socks, when I was a kid, usually lost the elastic on the top. I’d wear them anyway, but I had to endure the socks slipping into my shoes. I’d stop to pull them back up but gravity and no elasticity won every time. I walked on the lump in my shoes.

I knew how to button my clothes, but sometimes I mismatched the button to the hole. At the bottom of my jacket one side was longer than the other. I didn’t really care. I just figured buttoned is buttoned. It was sort of the same with zippers. I’d try to get one side into the other but sometimes failed without realizing it. I’d zip it up but the zipper would only go up one side. It took a bit patience to get the zipper right.

I am watching a video from a train ride in Ghana on African Walk Videos. It is as if were sitting there looking out the train window. I have always loved trains, even subway trains. Whenever I can, I have ridden trains when I travel. I look out the window and see everyday life. I am not a part of it but immersed in it.

Today I feel as if I were in a scene from the Sound of Music, the one where Maria with arms outstretched turns around on the mountain to take in the beauty of the hills. The day is that pretty, as warm and beautiful.

The morning is quiet. An every now and then breeze stirs the leaves. The sun is strong. It is already 70°. Nala stays outside stretched on the grass in the sun. Henry sleeps upstairs on my bed. They live the good life.

I ran amok. I washed and waxed the kitchen floor, the bathroom floor, the stairs and the hall. The members of the sloth club were considering removing me until I swore no more cleaning.

The cape is in its fall mode. The mornings are a bit chilly, but the days are a delight. Traffic is much lighter. When I travel at night, there are far fewer cars. The cranberry bogs are red with cranberries. Some have already been harvested. I’ve seen Halloween yard decorations, even stopped to take a picture of one. This is my favorite season on Cape Cod.

Even when I was a kid, I loved the fall. I’d walk in the gutters and kick the leaves as high as I could into the air. The dry leaves crackled under my feet. My father raked the yard every Saturday. He’d then burn the leaves, my favorite fall ritual. When it got colder, he’d remove the window screens and put up the storm windows. That was always a bit scary. The storm windows had to be lifted onto hooks using both hands. It was a miracle my father never fell nor, as far as I can remember, did a window.

On cold mornings, my mother used to make us a hot breakfast to fortify us for the walk to school. My favorite was soft boiled eggs with a side of cut toast for dipping. I didn’t even mind oatmeal especially with milk and sugar. I guess this must be a Julie Andrews’ day. She knew the benefit of sugar. It even made the medicine go down let alone oatmeal.

My play clothes changed from summer to fall, from shorts to dungarees and short sleeves to long. My mother started to insist I wear a sweater or a light jacket to school. On the way home, when the day was warmer, I’d tie it round my waist.

As for today, I’ll be home. I have a couple of chores but neither will put my sloth status in jeopardy.

Today is a lovely day, an almost perfect fall day. The sun, missing for a while, has returned. Its light glints through the trees, and I can see blue sky through the oak branches. It is 67°. Lately Nala has come into the house from the yard with wet fur. Today her fur was warm. She had been lying in the grass soaking in the warmth.

This is a slow uke week. Last week it was four events: a practice, my lesson and two concerts. This week I have no concerts. We are starting a new book, cowboy music.

I have a short to-do list. I need to water the plants and wash my kitchen floor which is covered in muddy paw prints.

My sister and I always contend we grew up during the best of times. We could roam. I always think we were probably the last of the roamers. I’d get on my bike and be gone the whole day. My mother never worried. I’d walk home in the dark from drill, and my mother never worried. I never worried either. She had given us her motherly warning about never accepting candy from a stranger, and I didn’t, but the only time that warning kicked in was in a subway station. I was with my uncle, two years older than I, and my brother. We were going to the MDC pool near the science museum. I was standing by myself when a man approached me. I remember he had bad teeth, rotted in the front. He had a hat. That’s all I remember about him. He told me if I wanted candy I needed to follow him. He was the one person I had been warned about. I got scared and ran to my uncle and told him. He didn’t believe me, but I was safe so I didn’t care what he thought. When I was older and thinking about it, I figured that man’s mother had never gave him the candy from stranger warning or he would have known my reaction. I never told my mother until I was an adult.

I like to sift through my memory drawers to see what I might find. That subway incident was never lost. It has always stayed with me.

The weather report from my Hey Google says it is sunny. It is lighter than the last few days but definitely not yet sunny, but I have hope. I think there is a glimmer. The temperature is 64°. The house is warmer than it has been. I have a cricket. I heard it this morning.

When I was a kid, Sunday was a lost day. It was church in the morning, dinner in the afternoon and occasional trips to my grandparents. It was also early to bed with my mother reminding us we had school in the morning, as if we needed reminding.

We always called our school St. Pat’s. The other kids went to the East School, but we didn’t call it by name. It was just public school which wasn’t meant to be derogatory. It was just a distinction. The other distinction is they wore regular clothes. We wore school uniforms except on scout days when we wore scout uniforms. At first there were lots of brownies, but as we got older, there were fewer Girl Scouts. I stayed.

Considering I never had a plane ride until I was in college, I have had the neatest experiences. That first plane was a small prop from Hyannis to Boston. In Ghana, I also rode a prop between Accra and Tamale. I took a helicopter between LaGuardia and Kennedy. That it rose straight up was the neatest part.

My sister and I took a balloon ride. We arrived at dawn to watch the balloon be inflated. It was in the fall, the last possible weekend for flight. I remember the sound of the gas as we floated. We were one of four balloons in the air. We could see people wearing robes and housecoats coming out of their houses to see us. We flew over a pig farm and scared the pigs. I took pictures of the balloon reflected in a pond. I could see the chase car following us. Though we practiced for a tipped basket landing, we landed perfectly then drank champagne to celebrate. On the bottom of the glass was a pin, a replica of the balloon.

On one beautiful late summer day, my friend and I took turns in a glider. I remember being pulled into the air by the small plane connected to us with a rope. When we were in the air, the pilot let me disengage the rope. We glided over the ocean. It was so quiet I could only hear the wind. We turned soundlessly. We landed on the grass. The wings tipped.

I have taken plane rides to the most remarkable places. I flew from Argentina to Uruguay over the water in a small plane. I flew over the Andes. They seemed so close I could almost touch them. I flew from Niamey to Ougadougou and arrived an hour before I left. Plane rides have taken me to places I had dreamed of when I was a kid. I am still amazed.

Rain, Rain, Go Away! Today is another ugly day. It will rain off and on all day and stay in the low 60’s. Right now the rain is on again. Our concert was cancelled. The event wasn’t, but we can’t play in the rain so I get to stay home cozy, dry and warm.

It is science fiction Saturday. I am now being entertained by The Atomic Submarine with a great opening of wonderfully eerie music. I like to watch the list of lesser actors as sometimes I recognize a few of the names. Here I didn’t. The special effects aren’t great, but this was released in 1959. It seems one of the atomic subs has been destroyed and other ships have gone missing from their polar route. The Tigershark, a high tech sub, will hunt the cause of these disasters. I haven’t seen the whole movie, but the villain is extraterrestrial. There is a voiceover to fill the plot gaps.

I feel lazy today. I suspect it will be a sloth day. My to-do list is no shorter than it has been, but I have no guilt about it. Chores will get done sometime.

I like naps. I even used to take them in the heat of the afternoon in Ghana. For two hours, during siesta time, the stores and even the post office closed. My students rested in their dorms.

Traveling in Ghana was an adventure. During school holidays, I’d take the bus to Accra which was 364 miles away. A car ride only took 6 1/2 hours, but I was seldom lucky enough to find a ride. Sometimes I’d take the state bus which had a schedule and took about the same amount of time as a car to get to Accra. Other times I’d take a bus from the lorry park, the cheapest ride, where I’d have to wait until the bus filled before it left. People were even crammed in the aisle. The bus made frequent stops adding to the travel time. I’d buy food offered through the window usually by women. It took hours to get to Accra. The best and quickest way was by plane from Tamale which took about an hour and was sort of expensive. I didn’t take that too often.

In Ghana, I learned be a patient traveler.

The morning is chilly at 64°. It is also cloudy. It is a day to stay close to hearth and home. Luckily my dance card is empty for today, but I still have a to-do list of the chores I didn’t do yesterday because I got an e-mail telling me about a uke mini-concert not on the schedule. I had to dress quickly and get on the road. The concert was at an assisted living facility. They were a wonderful audience clapping and singing along. We are still singing bluegrass. I have a concert tomorrow if the rain holds off, my fifth uke event of the week.

Cats throw up. My cat has an uncanny ability to throw up exactly where I walk. Before I go to bed, I go into the dark room to give Jack night pats and food. I walk to the table to turn on the light. I walk on something squishy.

I like pasta, but I am not fond of spaghetti though I’ll eat it if it’s served to me. Spaghetti just takes too much effort. At my aunt’s house, the aunt whose husband owned a fish market, I tasted spaghetti with clam sauce for the first time. I was surprised I liked it. I never thought clams and spaghetti could be a thing.

Though I love seafood, I don’t like salmon. A pink fish just seems wrong to me. My mother told me that when she was a kid the traditional July Fourth dinner was salmon and peas. She ate it poached in an egg sauce. Once on a British Air flight to Germany from London, I was upgraded to first class. Dinner was salmon without the peas. I didn’t eat it.

When I was a kid, they took my field and swamp away and built what my father called wrinkle city, apartments for the elderly. I remember a fire in one of them. We kids all gathered and watched the firefighters. We watched them put out the fire and bring a lady out on a stretcher. She was burned. I can still see it in my mind’s eye.

Henry just scared me. He was sleeping then jumped up and barked. He had heard a dog on TV. I patted him and thanked him for saving me. I didn’t explain about the TV.