The weather is perfect. The temperature is 70°. The morning is clear with a bright sun and a Crayola aquamarine colored sky. The breeze is ever so slight. It is a day to savor.

When I was a kid, the first of August was the beginning of the end. School was no longer inching closer. It was roaring towards us at a rapid speed. School clothes shopping was the first reminder of what was coming. My mother brought all four of us to the stores, but they were mostly quick stops. We didn’t need much. First was the shoe store. My feet got measured, and I got to see the bones of my feet in the x-ray machine. My mother picked sturdy shoes hoping they’re last all year. They never did. The next stop was for school uniforms, for a new blue skirt, white blouses and an ugly blue string tie. My mother bought the rest without us, the socks and underwear.

My favorite stop, the longest stop, was at Woolworth’s for school supplies. I got to pick what I wanted. I spend time checking out all the pencil cases. I wanted the perfect case. It was choosing the decorated top that was important because the cases were pretty much all the same. They were made of heavy cardboard and you slid out the holder. Inside were always pencils, an eraser, a six inch ruler and a compass and sometimes small colored pencils and some scissors. I never had any idea what the compass was for except to draw lines and semicircles. The next, the most important piece of going back to school, was the new lunchbox. When I was young, I chose lunch boxes with characters like Annie Oakley or Roy Rogers. I still have one with the Mickey Mouse Club on the top, but when I was older, I wanted designs. In the fourth grade it was a black and red tartan plaid design. My mother only filled the thermos on really cold winter days when she’d give us soup, usually chicken noodle. She always put in a few Saltines. By the end of the school year my lunchbox was usually the worst for wear. It had a few dents and a bit of rust inside, but, regardless, its usefulness continued. It became the repository for crayon stubs. Now, I use a cigar case. Things change but not by much.

This morning is glorious. The sun is wonderfully bright and the sky is a deep blue. Everything is quiet. Even the chimes in the background are still. Last night was cool, at least in comparison. It was easy to fall asleep. It will be the same most of the week: 70s during the day and 60’s at night, even as low as 62° by mid-week.

Nala is bringing the outside in which I prefer to her usual acts of thievery. Last night I found the remnants of a leaf filled pine branch, a small pine leafy branch, on the living room floor. The leaves were dead and brown and in small pieces on the floor and rug. Pieces of branches were in the living room and the hall, all chewed on the ends. Nala is quite adept at deception. I never heard her haul in these treasures through the dog door.

My license needs be renewed. I was sent a letter from the registry which said I had reached the magical age (my description) of needing to renew in person. I’ve made the appointment. Going to the registry is actually a mild form of torture guaranteed to try your patience.

Lately I have been on a cereal kick. Cinnamon Toast Crunch is my current favorite, but Rice Krispies, my all time favorite, waits in the wings. Periodically, though, I do take a risk and buy the variety packs. The dogs get the Cheerios.

This is a uke filled week: concert today, practice tomorrow, lesson Wednesday and concerts Thursday and Saturday. I also have a couple of errands. I don’t have the dump!

When I was a kid, my life was easy. Everything was done for me. I didn’t have any responsibilities. The only thing I was required to do was go to school and go to mass. I remember the first time I did my own laundry. The washer started beeping. I had no idea what was wrong. I checked the washer and found the clothes still soaking wet. I ended up wringing them by hand and then putting them in the dryer. It was a while before I found out what an imbalance meant in the washer. I felt sort of dumb.