The sun is elsewhere, but it is warm, winter warm. Only very small snow piles are left here and there. Earlier I gave Gracie a special biscuit which she then buried in the yard. I know that because Gracie came in with her face and jowls covered in dirt. I ran to clean her, but she shook off most of the dirt onto my cabinets and floor. I did manage to clean what was left off her face then I cleaned the floor. I’ve watched Gracie bury her prizes. First she digs a hole, drops in the biscuit then uses her nose to push the dirt back over the hole. Later she’ll bring in the most disgusting, dirty biscuit and eat it on my rug.
I’m getting itchy. This will be the second year I haven’t traveled because my bank account is almost non-existent so my austerity campaign has begun. A pair of pants I bought for my first trip to Ghana wore out at the crease on the leg so I used duct tape and you can’t even tell. My slippers have a hole in the toe so I put on socks. I figure I can save enough money to go back to Ghana in 2015. Besides, there isn’t really too much I need except maybe a new pair of pants come warmer weather. The duct tape gets sticky.
I am most decidedly bored today which is a good thing. No leaks, no car scrapes, no broken bones as of yet, but the week is young. Given my mood, I think it’s time to start playing Pollyanna’s happy game.
When I was growing up, I was content with a quiet Sunday. It was most decidedly a day of rest. Nobody did outside chores, the stores were all closed, and we were expected to stay around for dinner. The day started with mass then home and the paper though in those days I only read the funnies. I’d watch some TV or read until my mother called us to the table. Mashed potatoes were part of the meal every Sunday, and there was always gravy. I’d make a well in my potatoes and try not to let the gravy spill over the edge. It was my weekly challenge on every quiet Sunday
