Today is September at its best. The slight breeze is perfect for an already warm day at 73°. The sky is a beautiful clear blue. The sun is so bright it glints through the leaves in the backyard. Today defines fall. Tomorrow it will rain.

When I was a kid, Sunday was my least favorite day. Going to church was the start of it. I’d grab a hat or stuff a mantilla in my pocket, take my missal and pocket a dime or a quarter for the offering. The choice of where to sit was critical. In the upper church, the back pew was the best spot. It only held two people and had no kneeler. You sat the whole mass without guilt. It was also the nearest pew to the door so it was perfect for a quick getaway. In the downstairs, if there was an overflow, standing in the back was the best spot. Next to the wall were all sorts of pamphlets which I’d read. They were religious so I always figured they were acceptable reading during mass.

The best part of Sunday was dinner. It was the grandest meal of the week. On weekdays my father was never home from work in time for supper. On Sundays he was around all day. He even cut the meat. My favorite Sunday dinner was roast beef, mashed potatoes, baby peas and gravy. Sometimes we also had corn, niblet corn, another favorite of mine. I was never a fan of creamed corn. It looked gross and spread everywhere on the plate. Dessert was usually just cookies, Oreos, if any were left as they were always the first to go.

Bedtime was earlier on Sundays because of school on Monday. I guessed my mother figured with later to bed nights on Friday and Saturday we were out of practice. I thought it a con.

Today I have an empty dance card. I could go to the dump, but I won’t; however, I do have a couple of chores. I need to sweep the kitchen floor. It has leaves and pieces of small, chewed pine branches, compliments of Nala who brings outside inside. Last night I found a clump of pine needles near the front door. This morning I found a few piles of dead leaves in the living room on the rug. That dog is sly. I never catch her with her flora. Well, at least she has a hobby.

This entry was posted on September 17, 2023 at 1:17 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.