The morning is beautiful. The sun is so bright I had to shade my eyes when I went to get the papers. The sky is the deepest blue and goes on forever, unmarred by a single cloud. There is not even a wisp of wind. I filled the bird feeders. When I was outside, the only sounds were bird songs. It is a bit chilly but warmer than yesterday. The temperature is already 49˚ and will get as high as 55˚. I’m staying home today.

Last night was fun. I actually ate dinner with friends who always cook my favorites. Dinner was sausage and plantain, the sweetest plantain. There was also salad and rice, but they are humdrum, and I mention them only in passing. My friend has a raised bed garden. Okra is one of her crops. I mentioned garden eggs, and she went hunting for information. She has decided to plant some. I remember okra and garden egg stews in Ghana, the first time I saw either vegetable. I mentioned to my friends that eating okra stew with your hands is a bit slimy. They couldn’t believe I used my hand as an eating utensil. Even now, if I eat Ghanaian stews, I use my hand. It just seems right.

When I was a kid, I loved Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. I’d crush Saltines with my hands and put the crumbs and pieces into the bowl of soup. The Saltines sat on the top of the soup and absorbed most of the liquid. That’s the way I liked it. The noodles and meat stayed on the bottom of the bowl and were easy to snag. I remember sucking in the noodles and having a few drops hit in the face. My other favorite soup was tomato. I never used Saltines in that soup, but I did dip in my grilled cheese sandwiches.

When I left for the Peace Corps, it was on a Sunday. I was flying from Logan to Philadelphia. Both my parents came with me to the airport and, in those days, they could walk me to the gate. We didn’t talk a whole lot. They were dealing with my leaving for 2+ years, and I was dealing with the same thing in a different way. I was both nervous and excited. I still remember our goodbyes. My mother held on a bit too long, but I was okay with that. My father gave me a quick hug and a kiss on my cheek. They told me to call from Philadelphia. I cried a bit, quietly, as I walked down the gateway to my plane.

When I spoke to my sister in Colorado this morning she said it was snowing and adding inches to the snow already on the ground. Happy spring!

The sun was out when I woke up but has since disappeared. The sky is cloudy but no rain is predicted. It is cold and will stay cold all day. I am going out later to visit friends giving me a new record, four days out in a single week.

My bird feeders need filling. This morning a bright red cardinal, a bright yellow goldfinch and my favorite little chickadees were at the feeder eating the last few sunflower seeds.

I can’t find Henry’s halter, his harness. It has been on the floor so he’ll get familiar with it and not go crazy when I put it on him. I have looked all over downstairs. Its disappearance is driving me crazy.

This morning I watched a YouTube video filmed in Ghana. An American was visiting for the first time and was touring Makola Market. He mispronounced Accra and says Ghanians. The Ghanaian with him was far too polite to correct him. I screamed at the TV a few times. I wished it was two way.

I keep losing track of which day of the week it is. All my days are so similar I sometimes have to check the masthead of the paper.

When I was a kid, I got a Cinderella watch for my first communion. I was seven. My aunt had taught me to tell time, and she was the giver of my wonderful gift. I remember Cinderella wore a blue gown and was the background of the watch face. The strap too was blue, a light blue. I used to look at my watch with a flourish so everyone would see Cinderella on my wrist.

I still prefer an analog watch. I have a few of them, all of which need batteries. My favorite was a 50th birthday present from my mother. The watch has a red leather strap and silver around the face. The only time I wear a watch is when I travel, when time sometimes matters, but I never wear that watch; instead, I wear my least expensive time piece in case I lose it or break it or have it stolen. I wear my Timex with gold numbers. It is at least thirty years old.

When I was in Uruguay, I got on an elevator at my hotel which already had a male passenger. I was wearing my watch. He pointed first at my wrist then at my pocket. He wanted me to put my watch away. I remember before I left for my trip my father kept trying to get me to stay home. He told me South America was too dangerous. He said he knew a woman who knew a different woman who had been there. Her arm, the second woman’s, was dangling out a window when all of a sudden a thief grabbed her hand and cut off her finger to get her ring. To say I was skeptical was an understatement. I came home with my watch and an intact arm.