Keep the Coffee Comimg

The day is lovely, but we are still stuck in the cold. The high will be 32°. I have no list today, nothing I need to do and nowhere I need to go. I will lounge in my cozies wrapped in my afghan. I will honor my inner sloth. 

When I was a kid, the high point of my week was always Saturday. I seldom stayed home. I was out and about with my bike in the warmer weather, even on a warm winter’s day, or I would ice skate at the town rink or the swamp. I remember skating at the rink. You never went straight ahead. You skated in a circle. I followed the skaters in front of me and had skaters following me from behind. I skated until my feet hurt. I remember walking home, my skates over my shoulder and my feet tingling for a little while. The matinee was always a choice on rainy Saturdays. Snowy Saturdays meant sledding on the hill until my hands were so freezing they’d stop working. I’d call it a day, stand my sled up in a snow pile then slide down the stairs to the cellar where I’d hang my wet clothes on the clothesline and put on my cozies. I have been a long time lover of cozies.

I used to love buying copies of Classics Illustrated. Two of my favorites were Treasure Island and Kidnapped. I had read Treasure Island but not Kidnapped though I did see the movie. The Classics Illustrated were the same price as the regular comics, only a dime, and I thought they were bargain. One time, I was walking the tracks. On one side of the track by the road was a big green wooden box which held sand. I remember opening the top just to look. I found a tied bundle of comic books. I had found a treasure. One of the comics was Little Lulu, a favorite, another was Dondi. I never liked Dondi, the World War II orphan. Scrooge McDuck was in the pile. I sat all the rest of the day reading those comics.

I finished my book last night and am ready for another. I have several books saved to my iPad, but I love reading real books more. I love the feel of them, the sound of the pages turning and the joy of finishing one and shutting the cover with a satisfaction that on-line books don’t give me. I have several choices including books by Ngaio Marsh, Mary Wesley, James Patterson and Winston Groom’s Forrest Gump. I’m leaning toward the Mary Wesley. I’m thinking to lie on the couch, read and maybe treat myself to hot chocolate with marshmallow floating on the top.

Today I have another concert, my fourth of the week. It is up cape and early so I don’t have time to write Coffee today which usually takes at least two hours and sometimes closer to three. I don’t like to miss Coffee, but time doesn’t stretch.

We are still in North Pole weather. The sun is bright but useless. The high today will be in the mid-20’s. I would love to let my inner sloth loose, but I am stuck going out, back to bundling against the cold. 

I’ll be back tomorrow!

The early morning was sunny with a blue sky. Since then, the clouds have taken over, darkening clouds. Snow is predicted starting this afternoon. The paper says three inches while Alexa and Google both say an inch. I figure the paper’s prediction is an older one so I’m hoping for an inch.

Today is my only uke-less day so I’m doing errands. The dump tops the list, then gas, a few groceries and a blood test. I figure to beat the snow. 

Yesterday I saw another robin on a branch near the feeders. The goldfinches too were back as were my usual birds. I’ll fill the feeders this afternoon. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the birds.

My favorite grammar school teacher was Miss Quilter, my sixth grade teacher. She wore mostly suits. She had thick glasses. Unlike some of the nuns, she didn’t have favorites. On the bulletin board in the back of the room, she’d place names on lists like best speller and highest grades in history. I wanted to be on every list. She encouraged learning in all of us. She made me want to do my best. My name was on every list because of her. 

In Ghana, during training, we were divided into language groups based on where our posts would be. The Twi group was the largest as that was the most common language other than English. My group was learning Hausa, and we were the smallest language group. Our posts would be in what was then Upper Region. There were nine of us. First came learning the greetings, and there many greetings. Our language instructor was Lawal, from Bawku. He was gentle and sweet. He was patient. 

We had language almost every day we were together, but I stopped going after a while. A couple in our language group still had trouble with greetings so language lessons were a waste of my time. In Koforidua, where we started our 7th week of training, I found out Lawal was no longer my language instructor. Three of us, more advanced in Hausa, were assigned to Bosco Alhassan. He was brutal. Lawal could be distracted by questions, but not Bosco. He was a task master, but I do admit I learned so much more.

When I went back to Ghana after 40 years, I stayed in Bolga, my town. On the first night, I went to the hotel restaurant for dinner. As I passed a table I greeted them, ina wuni, good evening in Hausa. It was the first time I used Hausa since I had lived there. They looked shocked at this random white lady who had greeted them in Hausa. I was both thrilled and surprised I had remembered. While I was there, I remembered and used so much more of Hausa and was able to greet people, introduce myself and ask questions. Lawal and Bosco had trained me well.