The weather is just about the same every day, but I’m not complaining. We do have a bit of a breeze today. The oak leaves are turning brown and will soon cover the deck and hide the acorns. The spawns haven’t been at the bird feeders. They are content with the acorns, so many acorns.

Today is a house day. I need to put in the other storm door, vacuum the tumbleweeds, aka clumps of Henry fur, water plants and change the bed. I’m thinking I’ll need a nap. Just the list makes me tired.

When I was a kid, Sunday was definitely a day of rest. After church and dinner, we sometimes went to East Boston but more often we stayed home. We’d watch a movie except during football season when my father watched a game. He was a Giants fan back then. When I was young, I’d often color at the kitchen table. A cigar box held all the crayons. They were of different lengths, and the wrap was usually gone so we didn’t know the nuances of the colors. We had coloring books, some nearly filled but all with empty pages. I used blunt colors when I was younger, but as I got older, I shaded the colors. Sometimes my mother would color with me. I always thought she was an artist with crayons.

On Sundays, a roast of some sort was always baking, and its aroma filled the house. Roast beef was my favorite, but stuffed chicken was a close second. We had mashed potatoes every Sunday. Even now, when I cook a roast of some sort, I think I need mashed potatoes to make the meal complete. Gravy and baby peas, at least for me, were the rest of the dinner. On Sunday nights we had hot, open-faced sandwiches with slices of the roast on bread covered with gravy. The bread was white and soft, probably Wonder Bread.

My groceries were delivered yesterday. I treated myself to a big container of animal crackers and a package of Oreos. I still check which animal I am about to devour. I mostly eat the Oreos whole. I even sometimes dunk them into my coffee. Oreos taste great no matter how they are eaten.