Today is the second delightful day in a row. Last night was even chilly, yup chilly. I had to shut the window and put on socks. I even snuggled under the blanket on my bed and easily fell asleep. This morning is in the 60’s. Today’s high will be 70°. It’s a beautiful morning, sunny with only a few clouds to break the monotony. A few leaves are blowing.

When I was a kid, jumping over the sprinkler was one way to cool down. The metal sprinkler had arms and turned in a circle. We’d adjust the height of the water for the perfect jump until the water was not too high or not too low, sort of Goldilock’s moments but without the bears. The sprinkler was always on the grass by the side of the house. We’d spread towels in the sun as if we were on the beach. The water was always cold at first. When the grass got really wet, we’d sometimes slide and leave trails in the wet grass. My father was never pleased. He was a grass man.

I remember my father switching from storm windows to screens. He had to borrow a ladder so he could get to the second floor windows. That was always scary for us to watch as my father and ladders had a lamentable history. The storm windows hooked at the top. He had to pull the windows up off the hooks with both hands while he leaned into the ladder so he wouldn’t fall. After he got the windows off the hooks, he’d carry each one down the ladder with one hand holding the window and the other hand holding the side of the ladder. I still, to this day, wonder how he managed all those windows every year without falling. I swear the guy who invented the combo storm and screen windows knew my father.

This has been a busy week for me, but I missed the concert Wednesday as the string of my uke broke when I was tuning. I left to have it strung. The stringer wasn’t there so I had to go to the master of all, YouTube, to learn how to string it. I succeeded. I can now add stringing a uke to my resume.

The cape will be setting a heat record today. The prediction is a high of 95° and a low of 76°, as if anyone around here would call 76° a low. It was already 86° when I woke up this morning. My AC is blasting.

Cats throw up, mostly hairballs. I give Jack stuff to prevent them, but it doesn’t always work. Jack hates me. Before I go to bed, I fill his water, his wet food and treat bowls then sit with him brushing and patting him for a long while, but Jack is a thankless beast. When he throws up, it is on exactly the path I use to walk into his room, his dark room, not yet lit by the lamp on the table. I’m usually barefoot. Last night I stepped in it. My feet and the bottom of my pants got wet. I yelled. I swore. Jack didn’t care. He watched with what I believed was a sly grin on his face, a sort of Cheshire Cat imitation.

When I was a kid, we always had pets. Over time we had a turtle, a parakeet, dogs and cats. The dog was the first, Duke, our boxer. He made me a lover of boxers, those gentle, crazy, sweet, protective and loving dogs. When I got my first dog, naturally, it was a boxer, and I’ve had one ever since, Henry being the only male dog and the only other sort of dog I’ve had. Nala is unique. Her skill is thievery, quick and silent escapes from the house with booty in mouth. Nala is a naturalist. She brings leaves, pine cones, pine needles and sticks of all sizes into the house. I never catch doing either making the superiority of my species in question.

I’m in the mood for an adventure. I haven’t had one in a while. It could be as simple as a ride on unfamiliar roads. I’m not picky. When I was a kid, I had adventures all the time. I’d ride to the next town over to sit and watch the trains. I loved the feel of the breeze from the speedy train whooshing by me. I’d ride by the ponds in the two next towns over. Sometimes I stopped. Sometimes I just kept riding. I’d walk to the swamp then check on bushes at the edge of the grassy hill for blueberries. I’d cross the street to see the horses in the field. I’d take the long way home. That was an adventure in itself.