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. 

Sorry! It has been a couple of days. Yesterday it was Henry. I woke to hear him making the most ungodly cries, as if he were getting beaten. I was terrified for him. I quickly got dressed and took him to the emergency vet’s office. He was checked, but the vet found nothing wrong though I knew it was something as Henry just wasn’t Henry. He wouldn’t let me near him. He’d run if I got close. I had to herd him to get him inside the house. Next, it was Nala’s turn. When I got Henry home, he and Nala got into a fight. Nala started it after she smelled Henry. I figured he might have had an I was at the vet’s smell. Nala, though, got the worst of it, two deep teeth marks on her leg. She couldn’t walk on it. I put antiseptic on the wounds and covered them with gauze. I lifted her up and down the stairs when she wanted out. Both dogs took medication. 

Today is better. Henry is his happy self. Nala limps but is walking on that foot. When I changed the gauze, the wounds looked better, and she goes up and down the stairs alone. As for me, I barely slept last night as I woke up to every sound or movement from both dogs. Today I napped. Like the dogs, I am feeling better. 

Last night it rained. I was still awake to hear the first drops on the roof. I don’t know how long it rained but everything was wet this morning. Today is cloudy but warm in the 6o’s.

When I was a kid, our dog Duke, a boxer, was fierce. He protected us and the house. Once, he got into one fight with the dog from down the street, equally as fierce. The dog grabbed onto Duke’s neck before the fight was broken up, and Duke ended up with a horrible wound. My mother wanted to take him to the vet’s, but my father said Duke could take care of it himself. My father worked away all week. As soon as he was gone, my mother took Duke to the vet’s office. The vet treated the neck wound and put Duke on antibiotics. By Friday when my dad got home the wound looked much better. My father checked Duke and told my mother, “See, I told you he could take care of it himself.” My poor father lived much of his life in the dark!