Yesterday was a banner day. The heat and humidity disappeared, and it was chilly. I even closed windows. I got my dump sticker and had my car inspected. I even bought a few groceries. I felt accomplished.

The morning is lovely. The sun is shining and glinting through the oak leaves. The temperature is only 65˚. The high will be 68˚. The house is cold even though the windows are shut. The dogs were in the yard so long I went to check. They were chasing each other. When they saw me on the deck, they ran to me jumping. Henry was smiling. He has a nice smile.

When I was a kid, I loved riding my bike to school. I used to raise my arms in the air going down the hill where I lived. The bike rack at school was under trees. It was wooden and painted green. My bike didn’t have a lock, but it had a license plate from the police who registered our bikes and gave us the plates. The licenses were green and were long so they could fit on the back fenders. They even had Stoneham, my town, in white down the sides of the plates. They looked official.

My town had two golf courses. I used to ride my bike to both of them to hunt for errant golf balls. Sometimes I’d find some by the road and even across the street from the course. I’d put them in my bike basket, and they’d jump out at the bumps. I’d get off to get them and wish my basket had a cover.

My town library was built with money from Andrew Carnegie. I remember reading about it on a plaque in the foyer between the inside and outside doors. I only noticed it because it was raining, and I was keeping watch by the door for my father to come and get me. I was surprised.

The square used to have a spa. My aunt would sometimes take me there on Sunday after church. The inside was mostly wooden. It had a soda fountain and tall booths. I remember a sign on the wall for a lime rickey. I had never heard of a lime rickey. I hadn’t even ever seen a lime. My aunt met her friends there. I always felt a bit grown up among them as the Spa wasn’t a kid my age place. I remember it used to be near the movie theater, maybe even beside the door to the bowling alley.

O’Grady’s diner was just below the square. It is one of the places I miss the most. I remember going there with my father. He would give me a dime for the jukebox. Sometimes we sat on stools while other times in a booth. Every time we went my father met somebody he knew, townies. When I was in high school, my friends and I would sometimes go there after drill. We’d get a brownie, ice cream and fudge sauce.

When I was in Russia, at every museum we had to wear foot covers, like the ones police wear at crime scenes. I figured we were really cleaning floors. With two dogs running up and down the hall, there are clumps of fur. I clean them every time I go to the kitchen. I’m thinking of buying a few foot covers to hand to my guests and directing them to through the hall. I figure foot covers are a bit less conspicuous than a vacuum or a broom.

Nala woke me up about 6:30. I let her and Henry out and went to join them. I turned around immediately. It was actually cold. It is warmer now, 72˚, the high for the day. The bright sun is framed in a cloudy sky. Tonight will get down to the 50’s. I may have to wear a sweatshirt again.

I am still grossed out. Last night I found what I thought was a scab in my hair. I pulled it out. It was a tick, a tick!! I scratched again and found another one. I smashed them both. The smash was far more satisfying than tossing them into the toilet. I always check both dogs. They have had no ticks. I have had three, the most I can ever remember.

The dogs are driving me crazy. They play with each other on my bed, on the couch, in the hall and even in the bathroom. They are now on the couch beside me, both of them playing with mouths open. Their heads are wet.

Nala loves the dog door. She goes in and out several times a day. I know Henry could come in if he chose. He pushes the dog door with his nose so I know he is ready to come inside. I have tried ignoring him. He just keeps whacking the door. I get up and open it.

When I was a kid, buses stopped in the square usually in front of the movie theater. I used to take a bus to the skating rink along the Fells. It was fancy compared to my other skating spots, the swamp and Recreation Park. I remember the bus stop at the hospital in front of an old stone house with a porch. Student nurses lived there. Sometimes one or two would be waiting for the bus. They wore white uniforms and square hats. Other times I took the bus to Sullivan Square. I remember the big staircase. We used to go upstairs to board the subway trains. The buses were on the lower level as was a kiosk which sold newspapers, magazines and candy. I remember standing on the platform watching a train arrive. My mother kept telling me to move back from the track. I kept trying to watch the train’s arrival. It came into the station with a whoosh and a breeze. To go inside, I always jumped over the small gap between the train and the platform. Once inside, I knelt on the seat to look out the window. I loved seeing the city. It was the start of my love affair with Boston.