Life is good. I can walk without moaning on every step. My dogs have stopped cocking their heads and looking sympathetic when I moan. They ignore me again. The morning is lovely with not a single cloud and the deepest blue sky. The sun brightens every corner. Nothing is moving in the stillest air. We’ll get to 59° today. I have a concert this afternoon. The music is The Beach Boys, fun music or should I say Fun, Fun, Fun (No groaning. I’m injured).

The first album I ever bought was Peter, Paul and Mary. I found folk music before I found rock and roll. They are neck and neck but folk has a slight edge. I remember going to a coffee house. It was in Boston in basically a cellar. It was dark. People wore black so they sort of disappeared. I sat in the back. I don’t remember who sang. I do remember it was folk music. Joni, PP&M and Simon and Garfunkel made the trip to Ghana. I had to rewind the cassettes by hand because of the heat and the humidity. Bic pens were the perfect tools. CSN&N also came. One of my friends gave me the soundtrack to Easy Rider. His mother had sent it to him but he didn’t have a cassette player. Her lapse was my good fortune.

The only concerts I have attended have been mostly folk singers. I’ve seen Lightfoot, PP&M a few times, Judy Collins a couple of times, Nanci Griffith a couple of times just after I discovered Other Voices, Other Rooms, James Taylor, The Kingston Trio and Odetta. There are probably more, but it has been a while. I remember Roy Orbison and America. I can’t dredge any others, but I’m sure there are more rock concerts as well. I have a record player, a repro of an old one. I love playing my albums.

I remember my first transistor radio. It was a Christmas gift. The cover was brown leather with sound holes in the front. The radio was part of the cover. It wasn’t huge, but it was big. I was thrilled. AM radio stations were prime. WMEX was king. We all listened to Arnie Woo Woo Ginsburg’s Night Train Show. WCOP was the second station where we heard rock and roll. I used to sneak my radio under the covers so I could listen to music. One Christmas a few years later I got another radio, a small one you could hold in your hand. I remember the dial and the front of the radio. I had that radio for years.

I listen to mostly oldies, soft rock, stations in my car with the exception of WOMR in Provincetown, an eclectic station I really enjoy. Every now and then I drift over to an AM station for weather and traffic but mostly my dial stays on FM. My taste has expanded over time. I love Ghanaian High Life which was popular when I lived there. I have a few High Life albums.

Learning to play a musical instrument has been one of the high points of my life. Now I play concerts. Who would have thought?

The last couple of days have been painful and frustrating. Yesterday, when I was closing the front door, my thumb caught (I won’t explain just that it was silly). When I pulled my thumb free, I fell down the front steps, hit the planters and a garden sculpture and fell onto the grass. My thumb was bleeding down my hand to my arm. The wound looked like a smiley face without the eyes. It was a skin flap. I got into the house, put on bandaids then washed the front door which looked like the scene of a house invasion or a murder. I then left for my uke lesson. By the time I got home my leg was so swollen you could see the lump through my pants. It is painful to sit and painful to walk. My lower leg has abrasions but just a little swelling. As falls go, this one was spectacular.

Last night I could not watch the Sox. My Xfinity Stream had an error message. I looked to find out more and still had no idea what had happened. It opened my iPad. I checked YouTube and did a few of the suggestions. No luck. I have spent this morning in a rabbit hole of frustrating suggestions, none of which worked. I do not know what to do next except scream out the back door.

My first spectacular fall was when I was four. I had learned to jump off the high fence backwards. It was almost an Olympic worthy maneuver. I asked my mother to watch, and she did from our apartment window. I hit the ground and braced myself with my hands. My Olympic hopes were dashed. Later my mother took me to the hospital. I had a buckle fractured wrist. I was proud of that cast. The next fall requiring medical attention was when I was 10. I fell down the stairs, hit a table against the wall and opened my chin. I got stitches.

I have had other falls resulting in broken teeth and broken bones including that after uke practice fall followed by an ambulance ride, but, of late, my falls had been commonplace. Yesterday broke that streak.

My safari continues to be successful. Yesterday I caught and released 3 mice bringing the total to 5. I set 4 traps last night and will check later. This time I used a bit of cheddar. I figured they were tired of peanut butter. I have had mice periodically over the years. I remember when my mother was visiting and we were in the den. She saw a mouse. She didn’t freak. She thought it was cute. She wasn’t afraid of bugs either. She one told me when they were kids, she and her sister, used to catch flies and take off their wings. That didn’t bother me. Flies are filthy.