The morning is beautiful but a bit chilly, in the 50’s. The sun is squint your eyes bright. The clear blue sky is unmarred by a single cloud. It stretches across from east to west. The weather report, though, belies this lovely morning. Rain is predicted.

Having no car means I am housebound. In some ways I don’t mind. I like being home. I like having no expectations on my time and energy. I love my cozy clothes; however, there is one glaring loss, I am missing my ukulele events. I have already missed two concerts and will miss more next week. I do love playing my ukulele.

When I was a kid getting punished, I had to listen to my angry parents. They had stock phrases to meet any situation. I used to get myself in even more trouble as I had an answer for every one of them. “How many times do I have to tell you?” was too big a temptation. I always gave them a number. My father would get even more red faced when I did and the vein on his neck got more prominent. That was his tell by which we could measure how mad he was. My mother always threatened to tell my father. We ignored her threats so my mother escalated the confrontations and started throwing things. Once she even threw my dictionary, my red American Heritage Dictionary, across the room. The binding broke. “What do you think you’re doing?” was a trick question. When I’d question their authority, the answer was always, “Because I said so.” That was never enough for me, but that was all I got.

My mother used to tell me I had a wise mouth. She didn’t mean it as a compliment. I knew that she meant smart-alecky, fresh. She was right. Flippant answers just jumped out before I could stop them. I didn’t have a filter. I was a kid with a smart mouth.

The morning is already warm at 68°. It might even get as high as 70°. Earlier, the sky was cloudy, but now the sun has chased the clouds away. The sky is a pretty deep blue. I’m thinking the warmer days are finally here, and it’s time to switch seasons, time to change my clothes from winter to spring.

 The rental car went back yesterday. My life has come to a standstill. I guess it’s time to make a to-do list, a keep me busy while I’m homebound list. Upstairs is my target. The dust is thick and heavy. My bedroom would please Mrs. Haversham. 

During Peace Corps training, I was in Bawku, Ghana in July 1969. I remember sitting around the radio listening to VOA. It was broadcasting the moon landing. The newsman described in detail what was happening, what most of the world was watching. I remember listening to a play by play as Armstrong sort of jumped from rung to rung down the ship’s ladder. I remember the excitement when he became the first human to step on the moon. We all cheered. VOA had taken us to the moon. 

Some things give me pause. Ketchup on eggs is one of them. Ketchup on hot dogs is another. Refried beans even look disgusting. Baked beans look better but still look unappetizing to me. I’m not a fan of eating rare or medium rare steaks or burgers. I think my mother never served beef even a little red in the middle. I love seafood but am not a fan of oysters. I like my seafood cooked. I like okra but not when is is slimy. I always think it needs a Kleenex. Crooked pictures need to be straightened. My psyche demands it. 

I don’t mind bugs. They don’t scare me. I do tend to disrupt web building but not from a dislike of spiders but rather for a dislike of webs which question, by their very existence, my housekeeping skills. The biggest insect I’ve ever seen was a centipede crawling down a tree behind my house in Ghana. The cockroaches there were so big you could saddle and ride them. Okay, I admit I am exaggerating, but they were huge. They were in the kitchen where we used to hunt them wielding brooms as our weapons. I remember the sounds of them scurrying. 

I have a few outside chores. I’m glad for those. I think today is a wonderful day to sit on the deck and read, as a sort of dress rehearsal for summer.