Today is notable for many reasons. It is not raining. We do have a sky full of clouds, but they’re waiting around until tomorrow when it will rain. My dance card is empty. I get to stay home today. I won’t be lying around on my lounge eating bonbons as I do have some cleaning, but I get to stay in my cozies. My laundry is done. I just have to put it away. I am relatively healthy. I had my doctor’s appointment yesterday, just a follow-up. He was pleased. All the numbers were where they should be. He’ll see me again in six months.

When I was a kid, Saturday was my day. It was every kid’s day. I got to start the morning sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching some of my favorite programs and eating my cereal, usually Rice Krispies. The programs were mostly westerns. They all had heroes. I watched The Lone Ranger, The Cisco Kid, Rin Tin Tin, Annie Oakley, Buffalo Bill, Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, Roy Rogers, Sky King and so many more. Even the commercials were fun. Many were for cereals, sweet cereals laden with sugar, like Sugar Corn Pops, Trix, Sugar Frosted Flakes, Rice Krispies and Sugar Crisp. They all had jingles so we could sing along. I still remember them. “Nestles has the very best chocolate,” and you had to say chocolate a certain way. Tony the Tiger hawked his wares, “Frosted Flakes…they’re Gr-r-reat,” I remember Buffalo Bill and Sugar Pops.

The rest of the day was open. In the winter or on a rainy Saturday I could go to the matinee if the movie looked good. The movie theater was always filled. It was always raucous. Candy flew through the air. JuJus were ammo. They were hard and easy to throw. I got beaned a few times from the back. Other Saturdays were for bike riding. I never had a destination. I had favorite routes. Sometimes I’d check out the horses in the town barn or look for golf balls near the golf course. The library was a favorite stop. If I had any money, I’d buy a cupcake at Hank’s Bakery. I preferred chocolate. I’d walk my bike while I ate it.

Being retired means days seems to run together. I can do or not do. Today I’ll do.

Last night it rained, a heavy rain, but now it is cloudy but dry. A strong wind is blowing even the heaviest top branches of the backyard trees and making it feel colder than it is. I have to go out for a bit. That seems to happen about every day. I’m missing my hibernation.

Tuesday night, when I was driving home from uke practice, the fog was heavy in places, especially in the low parts of the road. There were few cars. On Wednesday morning the fog was so thick it hid the ocean. I loved that ride.

When I was a kid, school days were all the same. My mother woke us up. She always made breakfast. Soft boiled eggs were my favorite. We had yellow chick egg holders from Fanny Farmer. When I bought my house, my mother brought down a few, two of which are missing beaks, but that doesn’t matter. They have a prominent place in my kitchen. She always took off the top of the egg shell and cut the toast into strips for egg dunking. I drank cocoa with my breakfast. After eating, I got dressed for school. I never had to decide what to wear. It was always a white blouse, blue skirt and a cowboy bow tie. I walked to school with my friend, waited in the schoolyard for the bell to ring, went inside, left my coat in the cloak room and then took my seat at my desk. The school day had officially begun. It seldom held any surprises.

We had a TV just about my whole life. We’d watch it starting in the late afternoon. My mother would be in the kitchen making dinner. I have in my mind’s eye, in my memory drawers, exactly what the kitchens of my childhood looked like. My mother is always part of that memory. Sometimes she is standing at the sink and other times at the stove. Potatoes are aways cooking. I still remember the pan she used. The windows of the small kitchens always misted over from the heat of the oven. The house always felt its coziest then.