Keep the Coffee Comimg

Here I am thinking the air feels warm, but it is only 33°. It is cloudy. The day looks gloomy, uninviting. I have uke practice tonight. We are playing love songs of the 60’s, songs from my heyday.

It is a typical morning. The dogs have been out twice. Nala comes in on her own while Henry whines at the dog door for me to let him inside. They’ve had their morning treats, Buddy biscuits. Both of them are now sleeping on the couch. It’s nap time.

My Christmas tree had been standing in my living room since Christmas. It was covered with the tree bag meant to capture the needles. I didn’t move the tree outside earlier as it was too tall and too heavy. Yesterday I decided to tackle the task. It was awful. I managed to get the tree near the door then I went outside hoping to pull it through the threshold. It got stuck. Nothing moved. I grabbed branches and pulled. All the needles fell. I cut my hand somehow. I changed my strategy and pulled the side branches out one at a time. It worked. The tree is on the front lawn still in the white bag. I couldn’t remove the bottom of the tree stand so I’ll have to try again today. I hope no one looks too closely at that tree bag. I can see the blood from my cut all over it. Maybe I should bury it in the backyard. 

When I was a kid, a penny was valuable. I could buy penny candy. Sometimes I could get two pieces of candy for a penny. That was a good day. Now, the penny will join analog time, cursive, dial phones, typewriters, yellow pages, maps and so much much more. 

I thought about all the sayings and idioms about pennies. Those too will be gone, thrown on the trash pile of archaic language. I’m thinking a penny for my thoughts is probably now worth a dollar and even more, but it just doesn’t sound right. How about the bad penny who always shows up? That phrase is centuries old. A penny saved is a penny earned. Some things used to cost a pretty penny. How can you change penny dreadful? Nothing else fits. How about penny pinching? The worse is no more pennies from heaven. We are now or will soon be bereft of divine intervention.

’The morning is cloudy and cold, 33°. My car was covered in frost when I went to get the paper. I am so glad the long ago days of windshield scraping are gone. Now I just wait. The snow has melted on the shoveled and plowed surfaces. My walkway and car are clear. The back stairs are also clear. I threw de-icer on them so the dogs won’t slip. 

I have a few uke events this week, but today I am going nowhere. I’m staying cozy and warm. In fact, I actually fell asleep under the afghan for a bit this morning. The dogs joined me. It is already that sort of day.

When I was a kid, I never really minded the cold. My mother made sure that when I went out I was layered and bundled. My school was old. It had tall windows and hissing radiators. It was never really warm. I always wore a sweater over my uniform. I wore knee socks. 

I loved when my mother gave me soup for lunch. The thermos kept it hot. I remember having chicken noodle, Campbell’s chicken noodle, only Campbell’s, and she always packed Saltines. I learned to be careful filling the thermos cup. Noodles tended to plop and spray soup. I remember lots of noodles and little squares of chicken. 

We always had crayons around the house. My mother and I would sit at the kitchen table or on the rug to color together. She colored the best. She could shade the crayons. My colors were all blunt. I’d always get new crayons for Christmas and sometimes in my Easter basket. At first, I’d keep them in the crayon box. If the box came with a sharpener, I’d keep a tip on the crayons.  When the crayons got smaller, I’d have to peel off the labels, no more exotic colors, just red or blue or green. A cigar box was where we kept all the small crayons. I have a few boxes of souvenir crayons. One is in a tin and has all the colors, even the discontinued colors. The other night I saw a commercial for Crayola. They have a new commemorative box of just discontinued colors. I think I need that box.