The heat continues. It is 79° and will stay there all day. I know it is much hotter elsewhere but heat is relative. We don’t usually get this hot until late July or August. The air was still, but now there is a breeze. Last night it rained, but today is sunny with nary a cloud. Our first Monday concert is tonight. We’ll play Mondays all summer. The music is bluegrass.

Yesterday I bought flowers for the deck. I was glad to see the nursery is still filled with plants for sale. I lucked into a buy one get one free sale of annuals. Because I saved money, I bought a giant hanging plant. Once these flats are planted in the deck boxes I’ll go back for more.

When I was a kid, we never had fans and air conditioning was unknown. The house was dark because of the covered windows, but it was hot. I wore shorts and sleeveless blouses every day. The shorts were not Bermuda’s and were not short shorts. I always wore white sneakers.

In early June of 1969, I was twenty one and newly graduated from college. At the end of the month, I left for Philadelphia, for staging, the last few days before in-country Peace Corps training. During staging, our teeth got checked, we got yellow fever shots, met one on one with psychologists, had lectures with slides of Ghana and got to know each other. Some people never showed up for staging. I guessed they got cold feet. I remember my new friends, Bill and Peg, and I did a bit of Philadelphia touring. We missed a few of the group lectures, but nobody noticed. I remember on the day we left for Ghana the sidewalk in front of the hotel was piled high with luggage. We waited for the busses to take us to the airport. I have a bus picture.

I think about turning points, of changing lanes, of being somewhere unexpected. When I was a kid, I always knew I’d go to college. I did, no surprise there. I majored in English, but I didn’t want to teach. I wanted to be a lawyer, a female Perry Mason, but, even more, I wanted the Peace Corps. On a cold January Sunday, the special delivery came. I had been accepted. My life changed as soon as I called and accepted the invitation. I taught English as a second language in Ghana. I loved teaching. Good-bye Perry Mason. Hello high school English.

I retired early. This summer it will be twenty years. That still surprises me.

The day is dark and damp. It is cool at 73°, but the humidity is 95%. The breeze is so strong that at times even the trunks of the pine trees are swaying. Rain is predicted.

Yesterday I did get the screens on the doors and safely got the storms to the cellar. My only wound was when my hand brushed up against the wood on the inside door when I was taking the storm out. I split the skin a bit. Now I have a black and blue hand. That’ll teach me to do chores.

When I was growing up, summer Sundays were often lazy days. I’d lie on the living room rug to read the funnies. I remember I had to wash my hands after reading the paper as my fingers were black, covered in ink. We didn’t have our usual Sunday dinners. My mother didn’t want the oven heating the kitchen. We’d have burgers or sandwiches with either potato salad or peppers and eggs on the side. Supper was pretty much the same. I favored bologna sandwiches with orange mustard. My sandwiches were always a bit lumpy. The bologna came in a roll, and I could never cut it straight. It still tasted the same.

My hometown was filled with churches. Some are historic. They were close together almost like some herd of animals or a flock of birds. Two were on corners cross the street from each other while a third was on an adjacent corner. That block was called church corner. My church, St. Patrick’s, was at the end of the next block and another church was one block down. St. James has a flat topped steeple. I always thought it looked unfinished. There was a Jewish synagogue a distance out of town near Weiss Farm. I remember it was a neat looking building. I don’t remember ever going into the other churches when I was a kid. I only remember going into a couple for church fairs with my mother when I was an adult.

Nala did it again. Yesterday I put the filled trash bag from the basket on the kitchen floor. I was going to move it to the trunk. When I went out to empty the vacuum of ants, I saw fresh trash on the driveway so I checked the bag in the kitchen. Nala he dragged it to the dining room and opened it. Trash, including coffee grounds, was all over the floor. I screamed. She ran.

I have a couple of errands. It is too humid to do any sort of cleaning for which I am thankful. After the errands, I’ll loll.