Posted tagged ‘dance cards’

“Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.”

July 31, 2025

The sky is darkening. Thunder showers are predicted. I believe it this time. The rain will start light but is supposed to get heavy tonight. Rain is quite welcomed. My grass is barn hay. I hand water my deck flowers. It has been a long time since the last rain.

I am a prisoner of the AC. My house is delightfully cool while outside is humid and hot. The only problem is I have to keep the backdoor closed. I swear the dogs are conspiring against me. I have to get up and open the door to let them out and in. They know this. Sometimes they are out for a few minutes while other times they just stand on the deck and look around. I shut the door behind me but don’t close it completely. Nala will bang the door to summon me. Henry will just stand there so I have to keep checking for him. They’ll come in but want out minutes later. I curse all the way to the back door.

When I was a kid, summer was my favorite season. Every day was open to new discoveries, new adventures.

One summer I went to Girl Scout day camp. Camp Aleska was across the street from the zoo and up a dirt road. It was surrounded by huge trees, many of them big old pine. In the front were the spots for each age group. Each spot had a walkway with small rocks on each side and a picnic table. I was in the oldest group. Our site was the furthest away from the camp house. We did crafts, hiked and had swimming lessons. We sang. Girl Scouts always sing.

One summer I was a junior counselor. They gave me my own group. I had no adult leader. I had little kids, the children of the counselors. We sat on small chairs at tables under the trees right beside the lodge. I had to get creative. We drew, colored, played games, took short hikes, heard stories and we sang. At the end of camp, each unit had to present. My kids sang a song with hand gestures. We practiced every day. They forgot most of it anyway, but their cuteness saved them.

My dance card is empty until Monday. I figure the sloth in me will have full rein. I’m going to read and maybe vacuum when the dogs’ fur balls get to be a frightening size, like the monsters of a B science fiction movie along the lines of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. I will watch movies and the Red Sox. I will eat popcorn and chocolate. I will wear my cozies all day. I will contentedly sigh a lot.

“Her routine was as predictable as the rotation of the earth.”

November 11, 2017

Last night was bitingly cold. When I took Gracie out around 1:30, the cold took my breath away. Gracie didn’t like it any more than I so she peed as she walked. It was not squatting weather. Today is much warmer in comparison. I went into the yard with Gracie and didn’t mind waiting. She roamed a while then picked her spots. She squatted just fine.

I have all these patterns of movement every morning. I take Gracie out and fetch my papers then we both go to the backyard. Once Gracie’s finished in the yard and we’re back inside the house, I make the coffee then get Gracie’s dish. That’s kitchen to hall to den. On the way back from leaving Gracie’s dish, kitchen to den, I get the cat’s dish. That’s den to living room to kitchen. I fill the cat food dish then pour my first cup and head back to the den. That’s kitchen to living room to den. I read the Globe first then it’s back to the kitchen where I put the toast in the toaster oven and wait. Once it’s done, I fill my cup for the second time and walk back down the hall to the den to read my second paper, the Cape Cod Times. That’s where the usual pattern ends. The rest of my day is free form.

I didn’t make it to the dump yesterday. Even on warmer winter days the wind rips across the recycle center, and it’s cold. Yesterday the dump would have been freezing, frozen tundra like. I won’t be able to go until tomorrow as it is closed for Veteran’s Day.

Today I have an empty dance card. I’ll go through my recipes to find appetizers for game night tomorrow. I expect to get the laundry done. I’ve hit my breaking point. The pile is high enough to have my full attention and merits a sign: beware of falling laundry.