Today is another perfect fall day. We have a bright sun, and the temperature is 66 degrees. The tallest leaves on the trees in the back of the yard are shining in the sunlight, and an every now and then bit of a breeze stirs them. Nala is lying in the sun in her favorite spot. She comes inside panting.

When I was a kid, I walked when I couldn’t ride my bike. I had to walk to and from school. I’d walk uptown to the movie theater on Saturdays. I walked to church on Sundays. I didn’t complain unless it was raining. I hated to spend the day in school with wet, squishy shoes and wet, stringy hair. Back then, my mother didn’t know how to drive so we only had the one car, the one my father drove to work everyday. My mother didn’t learn to drive until we lived on the cape, but when she did, it didn’t matter much to me. I still walked to school everyday.

Every summer when I was in college, I worked at the Hyannis post office. We temps were hired so the regulars could get weekends free. I sorted mail. Behind the sales windows was the open floor where we sorted at different stations for different places. I first worked the main board where all the mail was sorted into stations for further sorting. I was quick so I often ended up with the postcards. I swear there were thousands of post cards on each two foot storage tray, but the problem wasn’t the number. It was the post mark. Because the post cards were thin, they went through the cancelling machine in piles. The top one would be the only one cancelled. I used to throw the uncanceled ones on the floor below my feet. The foreman would pick them up. He never complained to me. He was just happy I’d agree to sort them.

I don’t have a to do list. That seems to be such a burden, sort of being obligated. I might do, but I might not do.

It rained earlier, but I missed it. The sun was here, but it is now gone. The wind is blowing even the tallest branches. Today is not the best of days, but it does have one saving grace. The temperature is warmish at 64°. The house was colder than that when I woke up so I turned on the heat. It is still blasting. I’ll turn it off once the house is warm.

My larder is just about empty. I see a trip to the grocery store in my near future. I need bread, the staff of life, because I ate the last piece this morning, toasted. I need cream for my coffee and peanut butter. I’m also thinking hot dogs and rolls, my go to dinners.

The uke dominates my dance card this week. My practice is tonight, my lesson tomorrow and a concert on the weekend. We are singing cowboy songs this month. One of them is Happy Trails. I remember Roy on Trigger and Dale on Buttercup singing that song at the end of their TV show while they were riding off, proverbially, into the sunset. Another dance card entry is for Friday, shot day for flu, Covid and RSV.

The shot day I remember most was just after I got to Ghana. On the first or second morning at our Winneba training venue, the cafeteria tables were moved into an L shape. The area behind the tables was manned by needle toting health aides. We were in one giant line which went slowly because of the stops at each vaccine station. I got typhoid, paratyphoid, diphtheria, tetanus, rabies and the easy one, polio vaccine. In a separate room we got gamma globulin as it was a butt shot. We had gotten yellow fever before we left the US. We also started anti-malaria pills, aralen. The day after these shots I had a fever as did most of us.

Before our travels to South America, my friend, who was my fellow traveler, and I got shots. We had to drive to Boston to get them. I don’t remember how many we got, but I do remember it was in two visits. My friend was afraid of needles. After each shot she had to put her head between knees so she wouldn’t faint. All I could think of was that day in Ghana. She would never have lasted that line-up of shots.