What a delightful morning it is. The sun is bright in the clear sky. The blue is deep and lovely. A strong breeze is keeping the heat a bay. It is 73 degrees, close to 75, the expected high for today.

My computer saga continues. Last night the charger quit charging. Its cord is frayed. I am using my iPad. I thought I had a second charger, but I’ve looked everywhere I would have put it, no luck. I’ll have to pick one up but not until tomorrow.

Nala and Henry both like to nap on my bed. If one of them is missing, that’s where I look. Last night it was Nala. When I went to bed, I noticed my sheet was sandy, obviously Nala wasn’t polite enough to wipe her feet before she settled on the bed. I vacuumed. When I woke up this morning, Nala had her head resting on my back. I’ll have to get her a pillow of her own.

When I was growing up, Duke, our boxer, was not allowed on furniture, but that didn’t stop him. He’d sleep on the couch at night and jump off before he got caught. He’d lie across the bed with only his back feet on the floor. The poor boy was deprived.

On Saturday mornings, we used to eat our cereal in the living room in front of the TV. I remember keeping my bowl close to my mouth so I wouldn’t spill. Those mornings are the only time we owned the TV. We got to watch what we wanted. Many, back then, were westerns. We got to watch Sky King fly the Songbird. Annie Oakley was a sheriff. I was always a bit amazed that a woman was a sheriff who could shoot and catch bad guys. Rin Tin Tin was a dog against whom all other dogs were judged. ‘Yo, Rinty.” It never seemed odd that his person was a kid in the army who always wore a uniform. We had horses too, Fury and Flicker. I remember Circus Boy, but I didn’t remember it was Mickey Dolenz, the Monkees Mikey Dolenz. I had favorites, The Lone Ranger and Sgt. Preston of the Yukon.

After breakfast and a morning of TV, it was time to hit road, metaphorically of course. I’d mount my trusty steed, my bicycle, and explore my world.

The air is thick with humidity. The breeze is getting stronger. It is getting darker. Thunderstorms are predicted.

It rained last night for a short while but long enough for the dogs to leave muddy paw prints all over the kitchen floor. The floor was washed on Monday so I should have expected rain.

Last night calamity struck. I spilled my coke and some landed on the keyboard of this Mac. First the audio disappeared, no internal speakers listed, only earphones. I tried the suggested remedies. None worked. I decided I could live with no sound. Next, the keyboard stopped working. I couldn’t type my password to open the computer. That, I couldn’t live with. I felt doomed. I didn’t sleep well, but this morning, despite the dire predictions, all is well.

When I graduated from high school, a typewriter was my graduation present. It was a perfect gift to take to college, but there was a problem. I didn’t know how to type. I had tried my senior year to take typing, but my guidance counselor told me it wasn’t a college track course. He scheduled me for Latin IV instead. Such a good trade-off! I use Latin IV everywhere I go.

I didn’t bake anything ever until my first Christmas in Ghana. I made sugar cookies. It was quite the process. First, I had to travel 200 miles round trip to fill my gas cylinder so I could use my oven. Next, I looked for a cookie recipe and was happy to find one that looked fairly easy in the cookbook called Ghana Chop, a Peace Corps Ghana cookbook. It gave measurements in cigarette tins. I had Christmas cookie cutters my mother had sent. I used a Star beer bottle as a rolling pin. I sifted my flour to remove as many bugs as I could. After all that, and with a few bugs still in the flour, I was surprised by how good the cookies tasted. They even looked good. They were a Christmas hit.

Since then a lot has changed but a lot is the same. I have become quite adept at baking cookies. I mostly bake them at Christmas time. I use the same old cookie cutters. I ditched the bottle rolling pin for a traditional one. The flour has no bugs. I use confectioners’ sugar to make frosting; however, despite the batches of cookies I have made since then, that first batch is still the most memorable. It is one of my proudest accomplishments.