I’m not posting this today as I haven’t yet collected all the songs so if you want to add your mum’s favorite song, please do so!
Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category
MUM Day
July 22, 2012“O’ how full of briers is this working-day world.”
July 20, 2012Most mornings I’m finished with writing Coffee by now and have gotten on with my day, but not this morning. I woke up late, had three cups of coffee and just took my time reading the papers. It has to do with the weather. Today is cool. It will be in the mid-70’s and will stay cool for the next couple of days. Today is also dark. The sun is hidden behind a cloudy sky. I think it’s a wonderful day.
I had to figure the day of the week when I woke up. Usually I have a Wednesday play which helps give definition to the week, but I didn’t have one this week so I am a bit discombobulated. Because I watch the Red Sox most nights, I don’t have favorite shows on certain nights to help me keep track. I guess in the long run it doesn’t really matter what day it is.
When I was in college, I worked every summer at the post office in Hyannis. Back then Hyannis was a sectional center which meant all the mail was filtered through there so they hired a lot of summer temps. I was a mail sorter. I sat on this weird stool which was tilted toward the mail sorting boxes, and I wore a rubber thumb to help me sort one envelope at a time. I had my own rubber thumb given to me when I first started, and I was warned not to lose it. That should have given me a hint about working in the post office, but it didn’t. At first they had me working the general mail which just meant sorting the mail into states or cities. It was the easiest board, as they called the sorting stations, to work. I had such a good memory that I was also sent to work the Boston station board sorting into towns around the city. I worked Massachusetts which divided the general mail into cities and towns, and I worked Illinois and Ohio. I never did understand why we broke those last two into towns. Working in the PO was about the most boring job I ever had, just sitting and sorting from noon to nine. Once in a while I’d get to cancel the mail and I always enjoyed that, especially the postcards as they were so thin a bunch would slide through the canceling machine all at once. Whenever I’d find a postcard all filled out and stamped but without an address, I’d sent it to a friend. None of them ever mentioned those odd people who sent them postcards. The best time of the night was when we had to tie out for the 9 o’clock pick-up. That meant every piece of first class mail had to go on trucks to Boston. We literally tied each bundle from each slot on the boards using two elastics and then each bundle got an identifying destination on a paper wedged under the elastics. That was hectic emptying all the boards, but it was the only time I had fun working there.
The last time I worked in the PO was the summer before my senior year in college. At the end of that summer, I was actually offered a full-time job starting after Labor Day. I didn’t laugh or snort or breakout in hysterical laughter. I just said no thank you.
“It ain’t the heat; it’s the humility.”
July 17, 2012Mother Nature is running amok. It is far too hot for July. The Cape will reach 88˚ while Boston may break the record and reach 100˚. It’s a bit like winter, not from the temperature but from the amount of time I spend inside the house. I am so comfortable here that I dread going out into the heat. Tomorrow, happily, should be the last of this weather, and cooler days will follow and maybe even some rain: thunder showers would be nice.
I don’t remember when heat became an issue for me. When I was a kid, every day seemed the same, a day for playing outside regardless of the temperature though I could definitely tell which days were hotter because I got grubbier: the dirt and the sweat tended to mingle. When I was a teenager, I never went out much during the day. That was when the nights were more appealing. That was when my friends got their licenses, and that was when we’d drive around at night with no destinations in mind. We’d chip in our quarters to get a buck’s worth of gas to get us through the evening. Sometimes we’d stop at Carroll’s Hamburgers where all the parking spots were filled, and teenagers milled around or sat on the hoods of their cars. Other times we just slowly drove through the lot to check out the action. Some nights, after we’d had drill team practice, we’d stop at the diner to have desserts. We’d usually walk from the field uptown to O’Grady’s then we’d walk home, leaving in all different directions. I don’t remember those nights being hot either.
At some time, I don’t know exactly when, an intolerance for extremes sneaked in and became part of me. I don’t like the really cold days of winter, and I hate feeling hot and sweaty and strangled by the humidity in summer. The thermostat has been getting higher and higher on winter days, and the central air has been blowing more and more each summer. I remember seeing old ladies wearing sweaters on a balmy summer night, and I was mystified. My mother used to keep her house so hot in winter we’d wear t-shirts and complain. My neighbors find 78˚a comfortable AC temperature and I snorted quietly when they told me, but I can see it coming. The older I get the less I seem to adjust. I’ll have to keep the afghan close for winter and put on socks in the summer when the AC is blasting. My feet get really cold.
“The root of all superstition is that men observe when a thing hits, but not when it misses.”
July 13, 2012The morning got warm quickly, too warm for my second cup of coffee so I turned the AC on. The weather report says the temperature will rise as the day gets older. I guess I’m beating the heat to the punch.
My neighbors across the street have central air and use it often, but I think it has more to do with their Katy bar the door mentality than the heat. I was chatting with them the other day, and they mentioned they put the air at 80˚ when they go out so as not to waste electricity, and they keep it at 78˚ when they’re home. They said that was chilly enough for them. I guess the older you get, the less you can tolerate the cold. I suppose I could look forward to that.
Today is Friday the 13th which means absolutely nothing to me. I am not superstitious. I even tempt fate by walking under ladders. Spilled salt is a mess to be cleaned up, and that’s all. I have a black cat, and our paths cross frequently. I looked it up and fear of the day is called friggatriskaidekaphobia. Had I been asked the meaning before now, I would have concentrated on the beginning and guessed something to do with fear of foul language.
When we were kids, we had all sorts of superstitions. Step on a crack and break your mother’s back was one of them. None of us ever stepped on a crack. We didn’t want to tempt fate. When we walked the railroad tracks, we jumped over the ties with double zeros. I don’t remember exactly why, but I do remember there was a dread associated with stepping on those zeros. I never opened an umbrella inside the house simply because it was bad luck, and I was into preventative measures back then. A broken mirror was cause for horror and too many years of bad luck to contemplate.
Today will be the same as every other day. Sometimes life is difficult, but we all accept that. What we don’t need is adding wariness so ignore the dog howling, pick up that coin even if it’s tails up and go ahead and wash that car. Maybe I’ll watch Friday the 13th part 80!
What’s right is beautiful: what’s beautiful breeds joy: what breeds joy is goodness.”
June 29, 2012I can feel the warmth coming. It’s that sort of a morning, a morning still and dark, a humid morning. Sounds seem louder: a dog barking from down the street, cars going by the house and the clicking of Gracie’s collar when she runs around the yard. Every now and then she comes into the house usually panting from her run. Gracie just wants a pat and the assurance I’m still here then she goes back outside.
Tonight is a play and that’s it for my weekend dance card, but I’m just fine with indolence. I figure the deck is as fine a place as any to spend my time.
I seldom watch TV in the daytime, but today I made an exception. The Brink’s Job is offered On Demand. I love that movie because it takes place in Boston and a couple of scenes are in the town where I grew up. They chose it because the uptown was frozen in time, a perfect 50’s time. Since then, however, uptown has changed, but in the movie I get to see my town, the one I remember from my childhood.
I need to get a couple of passport pictures so I can send for my Ghanaian visa. Last year the visa ran out before I left, but, just as I expected, no one noticed when I was leaving. Ghana takes a lackadaisical approach to both entires and departures. No one checked my yellow shot record when I arrived, and they took only a cursory look at my passport. All of that reminded me of a re-entry when I was in the Peace Corps and returning to Ghana after traveling. I was at Kotoka International and was denied re-entry despite my resident’s visa and my re-entry permit. A cholera epidemic had started while I was gone and without a shot I couldn’t enter. I explained I wasn’t a casual visitor: I lived in Ghana and wanted to go home. No was the answer. I then asked the official if he’d let me in if I raised my right hand and swore to God to get a shot. He said yes so I swore to get a shot and off I went right to Peace Corps where I got the shot just as I promised.
If you think dogs can’t count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then giving Fido only two of them.
June 25, 2012My PC has gone to PC hell so I’ve disconnected its lifelines and will haul it to my computer guru today. I’m thinking it needs a new hard drive. Luckily, all my music, pictures and a variety of files were backed-up. I learned that lesson before this.
Today is a delight with a cool breeze and little humidity, but that’s supposed to change. Last night the weatherman said showers. I’m hoping he’s right.
The outside will get my attention today. I have a new holder for bird feeders which goes into the ground and has a squirrel baffle on the rod. The spawn of Satan will try to climb and the baffle will slide him right back down again. I figure it will be fun to watch! Nothing better than a frustrated spawn. The rod had six hooks so I’ll pick up a hanging plant or two. Another chore is the front garden where I noticed some flowers are picnic food for the bugs so they need to be sprayed. I’m thinking any excuse to stay outside today!
Last night I had dinner at my friends’ house. Tony barbecued burgers for us and two small burgers: one for Darci, my friends’ dog, and one for Gracie. When I got home, I gave Gracie half and left the rest in the bag on the counter. It disappeared, but this morning I saw the empty bag in the backyard. It seems Gracie is a counter surfer!
My dog Duke, the Boxer I had when I was growing up, was a great counter surfer. Nothing was safe. Once he grabbed the Sunday roast, and my brother and I had to pry his mouth open to save the meat. That was when I learned that tooth marks can be pressed out of uncooked roasts. My Shauna, also a Boxer, was a wonderful counter surfer. She could reach all the way to the wall. One time she stole a cake cooling on the counter and ate half of it so I had to hurry out and buy dessert as half a cake wouldn’t do. Shauna was also a trash bag mauler. If I left the bag on the kitchen floor, Shauna could break any world’s record in opening the bag and taking any food. I’d find trash on my bed because she used to haul it upstairs for reasons I never fathomed. Gracie, who has access to the outside through her door, takes the trash out if she’s been bag surfing. Every now and then I go out and collect her trash. I always feel a bit like her maid.
keepthecoffeecoming.blog 