What a pretty day! The air is still, the sun is squint your eyes bright, and the sky is deep blue without a single cloud. It is 22˚ with a high wind warning. We are expecting wind gusts of 50-60 MPH and maybe even some coastal flooding. Rain will start late tonight.

I’ve started a new to do list. Not unexpectedly, the laundry tops the list. The basket is filled. I walk by it with eyes closed. I’m surprised I don’t trip on it.

Amazing news: Gwen started purring yesterday for the first time since she was diagnosed. I am thrilled. She is moving around more as well. Gwen is looking good.

When I was a kid, Sunday was my least favorite day of the week. We had to go to mass. It was only in the summer I didn’t mind going, didn’t even complain about it. I went to the early masses which were always crowded with people fulfilling their obligations so they could go to the beach or somewhere just as fun. The church usually ran out of room. People stood in the vestibule craning their necks to see the altar. The overflow stood on the top steps outside the church doors. My brother and I were, by choice, in the vestibule then we’d move to the top step and take a seat. We could hear the mass. We figured that was enough to let it count.

My eighth grade teacher was too old to deal with us. The classroom was generally quiet, but we all took advantage in different ways. I remember one kid would spill some milk in the waste basket then show it to Sister Hildegarde. She’d chastise the unknown culprit, actually standing in front of her but unbeknownst to her, and then send the culprit to clean it. He’d take the basket, leave and be gone a long while. Sister Hildegarde never noticed he was missing. My friend Jimmy and I often left early on the pretext we needed to go to the town library. Sister Hildegarde always gave us permission. We sometimes arrived back to class late after leaving for lunch, a lunch we brought and hid under our coats so we could leave. I remember once being an hour late. We told Sister Hildegarde we’d lost track of the time. She’d admonish us and tell us not to let it happen again. She always forgot. I remember she’d get exasperated at something or another or some student or another. She’d and tell us that when we graduated she was going to write on the board in tall letters, “Thank you, God, they are gone. “I always wondered if she really did.

The morning is uninviting so far. The sky is mostly cloudy though glimpses of sun and blue sky poke through for a bit of optimism on an ugly day. It is only 19˚, even worse with the wind chill. Last night was bitterly cold, and the wind was loud, turbulent. I fell asleep despite the howling. Nala fell asleep under the covers and Henry at the foot of the bed. My to do list has one item, clean the backyard. From the deck I can see all the trash Nala stole. That dog is an unrepentant recidivist.

When I was a kid, today would have been the perfect Saturday to sit in front of the TV and watch all my morning shows. I remember Fury and My Friend Flicka. All of my dogs have aspired to be Rin Tin Tin or Sergeant Prestons’ King. My favorite western has always been The Lone Ranger. Captain Midnight began my love for science fiction programs and movies. Creature Double Feature took up my afternoons. I sat as close to the TV as my mother allowed and watched two black and white science fiction movies. That’s where my love for them began. Even now I’d pop some corn and watch those old movies all day.

Tonight is hot dog, brown bread and baked beans night, at least it was my entire childhood. I’m going with just the hot dogs for my tonight’s supper as I’m not a lover of beans and never gave buying brown bread a thought. Back when I was a kid, I’d put sweet relish and yellow mustard on my dogs. Over the years my tastes have matured. I use a variety of mustards. My favorites vary. Right now I’m into spicy brown mustard. As for relish, it’s not for me. I choose piccalilli instead, a sort of chunky pepper and onion version. I also add chopped jalapeños and onions if I have any. Eating hot dogs has a couple of rules. The roll must always be toasted. It must, and I emphasize must, be open at the top. Choice of toppings is optional.