Posted tagged ‘dampness’

“A rainy day is like a lovely gift — you can sleep late and not feel guilty.”

October 14, 2017

It was a late night so it is a late morning, actually an early afternoon. I was still awake at four when Gracie finally settled, Maddie got comfortable on my sweatshirt, and I was snuggled under the afghan to stave off the chill.

This morning when I took Gracie out I was surprised to see everything was wet, and the air was a bit chilly from the dampness. I came back inside and put on my sweatshirt which Maddie had been kind enough to leave for me. It’s raining again. I opened the window behind me to hear the drops on the leaves in the side yard. It started as a gentle rain but is now heavier, a steady storm.

I have no lists today. I could do a couple of errands but I’ll wait until tomorrow. Today I have designated a do nothing day.

My friend Bill keeps track of the weather in Bolga where we lived. I checked today, and it is currently 94˚, a cool day. Tomorrow will be 99˚ and every day for the rest of the week will be over 100˚ but will drop to the low 70’s at night. I used a woven wool blanket this time of year as the 30˚ drop was chilling. It was an unexpected but wonderful feeling being cold. I still have that wool blanket.

My house is dark except for a lit nightlight and a small driftwood tree lit with white lights in the bathroom and a strand of scallop shells and a cluster of red peppers lit in the kitchen. They give the house a cozy feel.

I’m watching a really bad movie called Deep Space. You’re probably thinking of course you are. The creature sort of looks like giant bug with lots of legs and sharp teeth. I had to laugh when it traveled on a sidewalk as it looked like a wind-up. None of its legs moved. It attacks by jumping at the necks of its victims. A few babies just as lethal as their mama have been born. The death count of their victims is rising.

It feels strange to have a Saturday with no baseball.

“Home-grown pears are best eaten in the bath – they’re so juicy, it’s the easiest way to stay clean!”

August 23, 2015

It is so quiet. The animals are having their morning naps, the birds aren’t singing and I don’t hear a sound from any house, not dishes, not voices, nothing. The air is still so even the leaves aren’t moving. The day is cloudy and damp. It rained yesterday and last night. The sun was out once this morning but disappeared quickly. It is the sort of day which saps my energy and makes me want to lie around and read or even nap.

If I were to rate the days of the week, Saturday would be my favorite day and Sunday my least favorite but Monday is close to Sunday at the bottom. This rating hasn’t changed since I was a kid. Saturday was the freest day of all. I had no obligations. I could do whatever I wanted. Cartoons and kids’ shows ruled the morning airwaves. I could eat my cereal in the living room in front of the TV. In the winter I could go to the movies. Saturday did have a few traditions like supper was always hot dogs, beans and brown bread. I think having that menu was a rule if you lived in New England. Saturday night was bath night. I never gave it a thought that we only had a bath once a week. I guess as long as the parts people saw were clean was enough until Saturday.

I can do anything I want any day of the week now so I try not to do much on Saturdays because it is a busy day around and about town. People are grocery shopping, doing other errands and going to the dump. This time of year tourists are coming and going as Saturday is change-over day. If you don’t go out early, you don’t go out at all. Mostly that means I stay home.

Movie night is tonight, postponed from last night. The crowd has two choices: The Haunting and What’s Up Doc? I’m hoping the vote is for the second movie. I could use the laughs.

“In nature, everything has a job. The job of the fog is to beautify further the existing beauties!”

June 13, 2015

Yesterday in the late afternoon when I went to get my mail, I noticed the fog rolling in, a hazy mist moving down the street. The air got chilly and damp, but I stayed outside drawn by the fog. The end of the street began to disappear and was soon lost in the mist. Later, in the early evening, I went to the door to check the fog and found it was raining, a gentle rain so quiet I never heard it.

This morning was overcast and damp. It reminded me of vacation mornings near the ocean. I was usually the first awake and the first to go outside. Everything was quiet, no one else was stirring so the world belonged only to me. I had that same feeling this morning only I was sharing the world with Gracie who stood beside me patiently waiting so we could go inside.

The morning breeze has blown away the clouds, and we have sun and blue skies.

The TV has been bountiful for me this morning. The first gift was a film called Satellite in the Sky. I won’t even get into the special effects except to say it was 1956 so just imagine the smoke and the fire from the engine, the missing weightlessness and the arrays of buttons and switches. The plane, sort of a rocket ship, carried a full crew and a stowaway, a woman reporter. Luckily she had found the perfect hiding place where she also found a uniform which fit her as if it had been sized. She added a scarf around her neck for the sake of fashion. After she was discovered, her next scene was when she brought coffee to the crew. Now the ship was complete with a stewardess. Later she also brought sandwiches. She and the captain, originally at odds about the ship, both agree that the Tritbonium Bomb strapped to the bottom was wrong.  A kiss sealed their agreement.

The second gift was one part of The Batman serial from 1943. The only actor I recognized was J. Carrol Naish as the villain, a Japanese spymaster named Dr. Daka. He had a machine which turned people into willing to do anything live zombies. After their transformations, they all wore contraptions on their heads which looked like colanders with antennae. It was through these contraptions the zombies received Dr. Daka’s orders. My favorite tidbit is The Batman (always The Batman) and Robin usually rode in the limo driven by Alfred, even when as The Batman and Robin. Their hero outfits were worn under their clothes. The bat cave was accessed through the grandfather’s clock in the spacious living room. This week’s episode ended when The Batman, a captive locked in a wooden box, is dropped to the hungry crocodiles. The last thing you hear is a scream. Will The Batman be saved or he is really lunch meat? You’ll have to wait until next week to find out!

“In the winter she curls up around a good book and dreams away the cold.”

September 16, 2013

Lately the days seem the same. The mornings are cold with the sun nowhere to be found. Today a dampness makes it feel even chillier. I’m thinking I might have to put in my back storm door. That’s the door I leave open so Gracie can come and go, but the cold comes all the way down the hall from the screen. I hate the thought that it might be storm door time for even that one door. The windows have been closed for the last three or four days. I’m not liking this at all. I want my sun back. I want warm days.

When I was a kid, I didn’t care much about what the weather was each day. I did want snow in the winter and warm days for swimming in the summer, but as for the other two seasons, I had no preferences. I’d take the days as they came except for Halloween. I didn’t want rain. As for any day rain, I never really minded getting soaked walking home from school. I’d get home, skip the play clothes and get cozy in my pajamas. I lie in bed and read. I can still see the window at the foot of my bed and the rain drops hitting the glass then sliding to the bottom. The fiercer the storm the better.

I can’t stand my feet being cold. They make my whole body feel cold so I put on my fleece-lined slippers, but sometimes they aren’t enough. I have to add socks. In winter, I spend the days at home wearing those slippers, flannel pants and a sweatshirt. It’s become my winter uniform. Right now I’m wearing those slippers and thinking of adding a sweatshirt. The house is only 66˚, colder than I keep it during the winter.

My mother kept her house too hot in the winter. We used to wear t-shirts inside and complain about how hot it was. She was always cold except for her feet. On them she wore slippers with open toes and no backs. I wish I had inherited her warm feet.

Now I tolerate cold and heat far less than I used to when I was younger. On the last two trips to Ghana, my hair was always soaked with sweat. I don’t remember that happening when I lived there so long ago. I used to wear a t-shirt all winter; now the sweatshirt is a must. I’m beginning to understand my mother and her need for a hot house.

“Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It’s awful.”

May 7, 2013

Some time during the early morning it must have rained but only a little as the driveway under the tree branches was dry. The rain has left the day cloudy, damp and quite still. Not a single branch, not even the smallest, is moving, and I don’t see or hear any birds.

When I went outside to get the papers, the morning had a sweetness about it. I could smell the garden and the flowers: scents made all the stronger by the dampness.

Gracie just chased Maddie but only because she’s bored. Maddie didn’t seem all that concerned. On days like today, Gracie is in for a while then out for a while; she pulls her toys out of the toy box then leaves them to go outside and bark. I left the front door opened because she loves watching the world through the storm door though my street is so quiet I can’t imagine what holds her interest. I think Gracie’s hoping for the unexpected.

We’re going to get our new dump sticker today and later Peapod will deliver my groceries. Sadly, those are the highlights of my day. Gracie and I must be suffering from the same ennui.

I used to drive my mother crazy at times when I’d complain there was nothing to do. I suspect there was really plenty to do, but I was just in one of those moods when nothing held my interest for too long, a lot like today’s mood, the one Gracie and I seem to be sharing. This morning I did the crossword puzzle but I didn’t do the cryptogram. I just couldn’t get my head to focus long enough to figure it out. That happens every now and then.

I know the sort of day I’ll have. There seems to be a routine for days like today: I’ll read a little, go through some catalogs, watch some programs I’ve DVR’ed and take a nap. I’ll sigh a lot.

“We are always the same age inside.”

January 29, 2013

Today I face the world or both Gracie and I go hungry. A sunny day would have been a nice welcome, but we still have all those clouds and a dampness left over from the little snow we had last night before it started to rain. Slush covers the side roads, and you can see all the tire marks. A mouse woke me up. It wasn’t happy with its accommodation in the have-a-heart trap and was banging and whacking the metal. I fell back to sleep a couple of times, but finally I couldn’t take it any longer. We went for a ride around 7:30: Gracie, the mouse and I. Despite all its complaining, the mouse didn’t want out. It kept moving from side to side in the trap before I finally shook it loose. I wished it well in its new home then I went and got coffee and a bagel. That seemed a perfect reward for an early morning mouse run.

My voice is raspy, and I still sniff and cough, but I feel better. That’s a good thing.

This morning I noticed the obituary of one of my high school classmates, a good guy, a funny guy. I don’t know what happened, but his dying gave me pause. My mind doesn’t ever think of me as old. I am perpetually young. Going up and downstairs is usually a reminder that my parts have aged, but the reminder doesn’t stick. I look in the mirror and see grey hairs, but they don’t mean anything to me. My friends are all around my age, but they still seem young to me. I can’t fathom they are in the their mid to late 60’s. What in the heck does that really mean? I thought my parents were old when they were in their 60’s. My dad passed away in his 60’s. I bet, though, they thought themselves still young just as I do now.

I finally understand that age is relative. I used to think that was what old people said to make themselves feel better, but it’s not. Age isn’t measured in years. It’s measured in the way you live your life. I have a long way to go until I’m old.

“In quiet places, reason abounds”

October 9, 2012

Today is socks and sweatshirt weather. It rained again last night into this morning, and the day is bone chillingly damp. I had a library board meeting this morning, and I turned on the heat in the car: the first time this fall.

We’ve had days and days of dark skies and periodic rain. The temperature has dropped to the 50’s during the day and the 40’s at night. I figure this is a shoulder season: the time between the beauty of autumn and the cold of early winter. The blanket was welcome warmth on my bed last night as were Fern and Gracie huddled beside me.

Sunny, warm days are delights and give the birds reason to sing. Squirrels, the spawns of Satan, are active and jump from branch to branch and run across the top of the gate. The chipmunk who lives under my lawn scurries in the sun. Gracie sleeps on the deck. The cats sprawl in the sunlight streaming through the doors. I sit outside, read and take in those days, but they’ve been gone for a while. The warmth has been replaced by cold, rainy damp days. which are cause for staying inside, staying warm. I had to turn on the lamp as the house is so dark. It’s also quiet. Gracie’s snoring is the only sound I can hear.

I haven’t much ambition. Yesterday all my chores were completed except for the laundry which I’ll finish today, but then I’ll do nothing else. I have no list. As soon as I finish here, I’m going upstairs to take off my outside clothes and put on my cozy clothes. I’ll come back downstairs and let the afternoon unfold as it will.

“When your friends begin to flatter you on how young you look, it’s a sure sign you’re getting old.’

July 9, 2011

The rain stayed around all night, and I fell asleep to the sounds of raindrops. Now it is still quite damp and humid. The sun struggled twice to come out, but it didn’t and still remains a hazy ball of light behind a mass of clouds. A slight breeze saves the day from strangling humidity. Tonight is movie and dinner on the deck night. I’m not making anything: it’s cold cuts, cheese and rolls and a few salads for sides. I’m even going to buy dessert and a few movie munchies. I haven’t chosen the movie yet, but I know it will take place in Boston as I have dubbed this summer The Boston Movie Festival. Last week we saw Blown Away. One movie we won’t see is The Brink’s Job. It’s not on DVD. I really wanted to watch it as a small part of it took place in the square of the town where I grew up. I  can’t understand why it’s unavailable on DVD.

My whole street is quiet, unusual for a Saturday. I don’t even hear a single lawn mower. Off in the distance I hear a few birds, but that’s all. Even Gracie is inside napping. It’s one of those days which seems to sap energy. I’m already thinking about my own nap.

Getting older has some perks. Being crotchety is expected, and I’m wondering when that entitled feeling kicks in. All the old people seem to have it. Maybe it’s at seventy. I know it wasn’t at sixty. Last night I watched the news, and one of the reports was about a woman who thwarted a robbery in her house. She said she grabbed the would be burglar by the nape of the neck and made him sit and wait for the police. She looked really old to me, but the reporter said she was sixty three. I ran to the mirror. One look convinced me that had it been me, the audience would have said no way that woman is sixty three. She looks so much younger.


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