Keep the Coffee Comimg

Today is still warm, 46°. My Google says the day is sunny. He obviously doesn’t have a window as it is another cloudy day. It is a stay at home day. I did my errands yesterday. I do have some chores I’ve been ignoring. I just may vacuum, but I just may not.

My Christmas lights still shine every night. They keep the darkness at bay. Usually I just have white lights on the deck bannister all year, but this year I kept the colored lights. I am not alone. When I ride anywhere at night, I am amazed at how many houses still have their Christmas lights lit. They make me smile.

If I were wealthy, I’d circle the world. I would visit places I still dream about like Polynesia and some of its islands. Bali is one of those islands, an idyllic island bursting with beauty, at least according to the pictures. I’d take a safari in East Africa. I’d go to India. It has long been a place I’ve wanted to visit. Cambodia and Ankor Wat are on the list. I’d go to Thailand. I’d see countries in Europe like Croatia and Romania. It is my dream list.

Last night I watched The Creeping Terror which rivals Plan Nine for the worst movie ever made. The plot is simple: an extraterrestrial which looks like a giant slug eats people whole. There is almost no dialogue. A narrator is the only speaker throughout most of the movie. The Terror swallows a mother hanging laundry, a grandfather and his grandson, couples at Lover’s Lane, some picnickers and a crowd at a dance hall. These victims did not run. I loved the line from the narrator after Lover’s Lane,” Anyone who witnessed that catastrophe and survived would never go there again.” Most victims just stand in front of the Terror screaming or just looking dazed. The army came as it often does with rampaging extraterrestrials. One army group kept shooting, but the Terror was not stopped; instead, it swallowed most of them. “My God!!! What is it???!” is my favorite line. I watched it until the end. I couldn’t help myself.

Today we have hit 50°. If this weren’t February, I’d be talking about spring. No layering today, it is a straight up flannel shirt day. I have to get dog food so I’m adding the dump to my errand list. My car is already filled except for the heavy box of used litter upstairs I’m leaving for another trip, no room.

When I was growing up, Saturday was my sacrosanct day. It was a day to wander or go to the movies or just stay at home to watch Saturday TV and then read the day away. Sometimes I went to the library. I’d take as many books as the librarian would let me, so many they’d fill my bike basket. They were my week’s entertainment. In my wanderings I always felt safe even if I was by myself. I’d ride around my town then sometimes pedal to one of the next towns. I was gone until late afternoon. My mother never worried.

We had an encyclopedia. It was the one from the supermarket, a new book a week. I’d take a book and open it at random then read where I landed. I learned about odd things and old things and spectacular things. I read about countries I dreamed of visiting. I learned about the world. I always thought of those books as my private library.

During the early days of Peace Corps, volunteers were given book lockers. They were made of cardboard and opened in the middle. On each side of the locker were two shelves filled with paperbacks. I was lucky enough to be given one by a volunteer who had completed service and was going home. Books were sacred. They were passed along or traded. With no TV or radio or newspaper, reading was one of the great joys. I spend afternoons sitting in my living room devouring my book. I carried one with me when I traveled. The long ride to go south went quickly when I read. That book locker was amazing. It had The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. There was the Daphne du Maurier novel, My Cousin Rachel, which I probably would never have read otherwise. I read every book. I also traded them for different books. My book locker was never empty.