My calendar is still on October. I’m just not ready for November. The year is far too quickly speeding away. Winter is intruding. 39° will be the low today.

Yesterday my membership in the Organization of Sloths was in jeopardy. I did errands, grocery shopped and washed the kitchen floor. That last chore took a long time. Poor spiders were sent scurrying. They had thought they were safe. I hand scrubbed under bottles and bins and chair legs. Today I’ll wax the floor and fill the bird feeders. I may also nap just to maintain my revered status as a sloth.

When I was a kid, storing my bicycle in the cellar was a sad ritual at the beginning of winter. I rode as long as I could, but the cold got to be too much. The freezing air whipped at my face as I rode down the hills. I needed mittens to hold on to the handlebars. My coat would puff from the wind riding up the sleeves. I had to walk everywhere.

We counted down to Halloween, and we counted down to Christmas. Thanksgiving just sort of happened. We did color turkeys in school and used the outlines of our fingers for their tails, and my mother put up a few cardboard turkeys and Pilgrims on the insides of the windows, but there were no real festivities. There was just turkey and a few days off from school.

When the weather got cold, Saturday matinees started at the movie theater uptown. We went almost every week. My mother gave us ticket money and money for popcorn or candy. She got rid of my brother and me for an entire afternoon for less than a dollar. We walked to the square and stood in line at the ticket window which was on a side wall inside the door. The candy counter was at the top of a small incline. Al owned the theater, and his wife ran the candy counter. The popcorn machine was on one side of the counter. Nothing was better than the aroma of corn popping, but I seldom bought popcorn; instead, I usually bought a long lasting candy like a Sugar Daddy. Coming attractions were usually first followed by a cartoon or two and the movie. The theater was never really quiet. In the back rows were the teenagers. They never watched the movie. I remember walking home in the late afternoon in the early darkness.

As usually my dance card for the week includes uke and not much else. This is the start of the busy season with two concerts this week and three next week. We’ll be playing transportation this week and bluegrass starting next week until December and Christmas music. I do love Christmas music.

It might rain today. I should have expected it as washing the kitchen floor tops my chore list. As for that chore list, my sloth days are over for a bit. I have to clean the house, friends are coming. Those clumps of Henry hair will soon be a memory, at least for a day or two.

When I was a kid, I loved rainy afternoons. I’d get soaked walking home from school. My shoes would bubble at the tops. That always amused me. I’d get home, hang up my wet clothes, put my shoes by the radiator and change into my pajamas. I’d get cozy in bed and read the afternoon away. Sometimes I’d even fall asleep with my open book in hand.

Life is quiet right now. My uke gets me out of the house. Without it, I would be the poster child for slothhood. I like the slower pace, but it did take me a while to get rid of the guilt of choosing to do little.

I met my friends who are coming this week on the first day of what is called staging in Peace Corps lingo, the day you check in to begin your journey. You meet the people with whom you’ll serve and learn more about where you’re going and what the training will be. I remember standing in line for the check in. I chatted with the people around me. That’s when I met Bill and Peg, kindred spirits from New Hampshire. We became accomplices. We did attend sessions, but we also skipped a few. We were in Philadelphia where none of us had ever been so we became tourists. We saw the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, the art museum with the Rocky steps and the spectacular view from the top of the William Penn building, city hall. Bill and Peg were to be stationed about a 100 miles from me in Tamale then they found out Peg was pregnant. Peace Corps let them stay but moved them to the south a long way from me. We stayed close despite the distance. I saw them during school holidays, and we traveled together. Once back, we lost touch for a long while, but then we found each other again. The years melted away. They are still kindred spirits. We are still the best of friends.