Posted tagged ‘bath night’

“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.

“… we are still awaiting Easter; we are not yet standing in the full light but walking toward it full of trust.”

March 30, 2013

Mother Nature is spoiling us with these sunny days and blue skies. It is chilly still but not cold, true sweatshirt weather. Fern is sprawled and napping in the sun streaming through the front door while Gracie and Maddie are napping elsewhere. I just watched Godzilla which I haven’t seen in years. It made me laugh. Most of the film is still in Japanese so scenes with Raymond Burr were inserted so we’d know what the heck was going on. He spends the entire movie looking straight ahead and doing voice-overs. The special effects are mostly miniatures, easy to spot. I got a big chuckle out of Burr at a press conference. He was writing for all he was worth while the information was being relayed in Japanese which he didn’t speak. In one scene a woman fell as she was running from Godzilla just as every B movie dictates but so did a soldier. That one is a new twist. It was in one of the inserted scenes and the guy was saved by Raymond Burr. During Godzilla’s rampage on Tokyo, Burr stands at a window, sweat pouring down his face while he describes the horror he’s watching for his editor into the microphone of a tape recorder. He just stands there until Godzilla destroys the building and the ceiling falls in on Burr who does survive. Godzilla doesn’t.

My neighborhood is quiet. I haven’t even heard a car going down the street or a dog barking. I have no plans for the day, no errands and nothing to do around the house except make my bed, but I’m hesitant as I’m thinking afternoon nap. I’m in the middle of a Lisa Gardner book called Touch and Go so I may curl up on the couch with my iPad and read away the afternoon.

Holy Saturday was always just an ordinary Saturday. We didn’t go to church: there were no services. We’d play outside weather permitting. That night we’d take our usual Saturday night baths with maybe a bit of extra scrubbing. The Easter Bunny was coming, but he never conjured the same excitement and anticipation as Santa did. We knew they’d be jelly beans and chocolate rabbits, a candy egg or two, a coloring book, crayons and a few small toys. My mother would let us eat one choice from our baskets, never the whole rabbit, and then we’d have to get ready for church. Our new clothes were all laid out, tags snipped and ironing done. After we’d gotten dressed, there were usually pictures, black and white pictures. We wore pastels.

“The less routine the more life.”

October 1, 2011

This morning it poured, and the rain made such a thunderous racket on the roof and deck it woke me up. The day is now cloudy and damp, and the paper predicts it will stay this way through at least Tuesday. I guess we’re paying the price for the beauty of last week.

I am running late as I had a couple of early morning errands. I have more to do but figured I’d finish Coffee before I go back out and about.

Today, when I turned the calendar to October, I was taken a bit aback to realize how quickly the year is passing. It’s that age thing-the older we get, the shorter each year seems. I remember being young and waiting endlessly for the week to end. I was stuck in school for what seemed like eons as it always felt as if Friday took forever to come. The first of October meant counting the days until Halloween, a whole month of days. We had Columbus day off in the middle to give us a bit of a break, but that didn’t change how long the month stretched in front of us.

There was a routine to every day back then, maybe the first inkling to what lay before us as adults. We got up every weekday, ate breakfast, got dressed, grabbed our schoolbags and walked to school. School started at the ringing of a bell, a hand bell rung outside the school door by one of the nuns. The same classes followed each other every day except once a week when music and art changed the routine. Lunch was eaten at the ringing of the bell and finished at the ringing of the same bell. At the end of the day, we watched the slow movement of the clock’s hands and listened for the bell to send us home. We played a bit, did homework, ate dinner, watched TV and went to bed.

The weekends, though open and free, had a routine of their own. Saturday started with cartoons and cereal in front of the TV and then the rest of the day was ours until bath time. I remember my brother and I took our own baths while my sisters shared one. They always cried when my mother combed the snarls out of their hair after the shampooing. It was as much a part of the routine as the shampooing. We’d stay up a bit later then be sent off to bed. We’d whine about the unfairness of it all as we went up the stairs.

We’d get up, put on our Sunday clothes and then go off to church grumbling the whole way as church as never a favorite of ours. We’d endure the mass, get home and change as quickly as possible then play a bit until dinner. Sunday dinner was always my favorite. It was the special meal of the week when we often had a roast, something my parents could ill afford more than once a week. Sometimes we’d go visit my grandparents while other Sundays we could do whatever we wanted. Besides church, the only other drawback to Sunday was we were forced to go to bed early to be ready for school the next day.

When Monday morning came, so did the routine of being a kid.

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