Posted tagged ‘Sunday’
April 16, 2016
I guess it is too early in the spring for the sun to sustain itself more than a day or two. It is gray and windy, big time windy. I can hear the sweet sound of the chimes hanging in the backyard.
The cats hate me. Fern has medicine once a day and the medicine ear rub is also once a day. Maddie has a daily ear rub in each ear. This morning Fern has had her medicine and Maddie her first rub. Both have disappeared. Gracie the snoring dog is the only pet still here with me.
Saturday has always been the best day of the week ever since I was really young. Weekdays meant school. I liked school, but I didn’t like being stuck there all day long. One recess a day just wasn’t enough. Sunday had church, a perfect reason not to like the day. In winter there was always the Saturday matinee or a day to do anything we wanted. On TV was the Creature Double Feature. I saw giant spiders, a colossal man, a 50 foot woman, Mole people, giants ants, a teenage werewolf and Godzilla. Both the Colossal Man and the 50 Foot Woman were quite ill-tempered, and she was even vengeful in going after her philandering husband who was carousing at a bar while she grew taller. I didn’t blame her. The giant creatures like the ants in Them were the results of the atomic bomb. I never minded staying home on a rainy Saturday. Watching TV was like being in B-movie heaven. Every now and then I find a favorite B&W science fiction movie on TCM. It’s like finding a treasure, a gem.
Most of this week was a bust. I’m hoping for better starting tomorrow. I’m not as obnoxious as Pollyanna and her glad game, but I’d like a few days with warm sun, a neat ride or two and maybe my first fish and chips of the season now that my favorite summer restaurants are open. I really don’t think I’m asking for a whole lot. I’ll even take just one. I pick the warm sun.
Categories: Musings
Tags: church', colossal man, Creature Double Feature, pets, Saturdays, school, Sunday, weekdays
Comments: 12 Comments
February 28, 2016
We have lots of sun this morning and a light blue sky, but the day is breezy and cool. I can hear the sweet sounds of the wind chimes blowing.
I’m in a Sunday frame of mind, the kind of Sunday we had when I was a kid, a quiet day, a hang around the house day waiting for dinner. Sunday was always special. It was the only day we had dinner, a fancier fare than we had all week. Dinner was always in the afternoon, usually around two. Supper was at night. My dad used to work late and wasn’t always home in time for supper. We were always together for Sunday dinner. The meal centered around a roast of some sort and mashed potatoes. The vegetables differed from week to week. Bread was never served though I remember it was always on the table at the Cleaver’s, the Walton’s and most other programs about families. Their bread wasn’t fancy, just sliced bread stacked on a plate. I never saw any of them use salt or pepper on their foods. We didn’t either. The table held our plates and silverware and the food. There was barely room for the six of us. Most times my mother would move the food to the counter after we had served ourselves. If we wanted more, she’d always get up to serve us. I don’t remember my mother ever sitting down for an entire meal. We seldom had dessert, not even at Sunday dinner. If there was any in the house, we’d have a bowl of ice cream or we’d grab a few cookies, Oreos were the favorite.
I didn’t know until I was older that potatoes could be more than mashed or French fried. I was surprised to find out carrots and potatoes weren’t the only vegetables which could be served fresh, not out of a can. I did know about corn on the cob, but that was a summer vegetable for a cook-out.
I don’t remember having Sunday dinners in the summer. We had picnics at the beach and cookouts in the backyard. We ate a lot of hamburgers and hot dogs. Corn on the cob and baked beans, out of a can of course, were usually the vegetables. In those days we never had salad. Potato salad came much later, when we were older. Green salad was never a hit.
Despite the canned veggies and the lack of salads and greenery, we were healthy kids. We suffered from the usually maladies of childhood in those days like measles or the mumps, but that was about it. I might have wished to have a few stay at home from school sick days, but I wasn’t ever that lucky.
Categories: Musings
Tags: baked beans, Chicken, childhood maladies, cook-outs, corn on the cob, day quiet day, dinner, mashed potatoes, picnics, roast beef, Roasts, sea breeze, sun, Sunday, Sunday dinner, veggies, wind chimes
Comments: 10 Comments
January 10, 2016
It’s raining. It’s pouring. The old man is snoring.
I don’t know when the rain started, but it is now a heavy rain and a strong wind. Outside is so dark my deck lights came on. The timer was duped.
I have written the start of several second paragraphs but have deleted each of them. Usually I have an idea which spreads across time and conjures memories. This morning I have nothing.
Sunday has never been a productive day. It was always church and family dinner day and some Sundays there was a visit to my grandparents. Nobody did lawn work, always reserved for a Saturday, and my mother didn’t vacuum or dust. She made dinner. Usually we stayed around the house. I’d read the Sunday funnies. The TV would be on a Sunday Matinee movie or a football game. I remember my brother watching and sitting close to the TV set, his legs bent and splayed behind him. I never found that comfortable.
The papers are so much bigger on Sunday. It is a three cup minimum to finish both papers. The Globe crossword takes the whole day as I fill in a bit then do something else then go back to it. I hate the crosswords where the longest answer is a quote and other answers finish the quote. Usually I start with the smallest part of the quote and work up hoping the answers will be hints. The capital of Ghana is often a crossword clue.
In the winter, I crave color. Often I buy myself a bouquet of flowers to remind me of spring and to brighten the darkness. The worst of winter is still ahead of me. January and February are usually snowy months. I’ll just have to be patient, never a strong suit of mine.
Categories: Musings
Tags: church', funnies, lights, papers, rain, Sunday, Wind
Comments: 24 Comments
July 28, 2013
Last night it rained, not a lot as under the umbrellas is dry. I sat outside to read my first paper. Pandora was set to 60’s rock, the coffee was perfect and the newspaper wasn’t filled with dire events. I call that a great morning.
In the musical Camelot, King Arthur describes Camelot and says, “The rain may never fall till after sundown.” I always thought that a good idea.
I still have bits of the old Sunday in my head. It was a day to recharge for the week. We went to church, came home, got changed, and hung around until after Sunday dinner. Even then we didn’t go far. Sunday seemed to bring a quiet as if it were built in to the day. Even my neighborhood with a million kids was quiet. That’s a piece that hasn’t disappeared. I don’t hear anyone. I hear a bird or two but no people’s’ voices. Not a car has gone up my street. I know if I leave my neighborhood the stores will be open, and cars will have filled parking lots and lines of cars will sit barely moving on the roads, but for now, I’ll stay here and let it be my Sunday.
Each generation gives something to the next. Most times they probably don’t realize it. From my mother we have these wonderful sayings, and we use them all the time with each other. “It’s too cold to snow,” my mother always said. Mostly she was wrong. When it rained, it was a deluge, and my sister told me that the other day. Snow in spring is poor man’s fertilizer, and my father always noted it and so do I. My parents gave us big things, but we use the small ones the most, the every day observations of life. My mother learned them from her mother and passed them along to us without knowing we’d hold on to them so closely. They are precious and very time we use one, we bring my mother or father back with us for a little while.
No one ever told us how difficult it is and how long that feeling lasts when you lose your parents. I suppose we wouldn’t have believed them if they had.
Categories: Musings
Tags: birds singing, deluge, mothers and fathers, quiet day, rain, sense of loss, Sunday, Sunday of old
Comments: 11 Comments
June 30, 2013
My mood and the day are a perfect match: dark and dismal. My back is fine so I have no complaints there, but my leg in the morning is always unhappy, and it takes a while for modern medicine to work its magic. Until then the leg goes up on the couch, off the couch and back up again a few times while I try to find a comfortable, less painful spot. Most times I am not all that lucky. As for right now, the marvel of medicine has done its job.
I still think of Sunday as a do nothing sort of day. When I was a kid, it was a quiet day. After breakfast, I’d dress for church. Unless I was up early enough to go with my dad, my brother and I walked to mass together. My dad was an usher, the guy who passed the basket. It was a neat basket with a handle so long the basket reached to the middle of the long middle pews. My dad did the center first then one side while his partner did the other. Those were the days of suits, even in the summer. My dad didn’t have a light weight suit. I don’t even know if they had them back then. His suits were dark black or blue or gray. He always wore a starched white shirt. On the way home he’d stop to get the Sunday paper and a dozen donuts. He was a plain donut man. My mother was never a coffee drinker, but she loved dunking her donuts in coffee, her plain donuts. Back then I was a jelly donut fan and was a pro at catching the oozy jelly from the bottom hole before it hit my shirt. It is a skill in which I still excel though now I prefer lemon to jelly, but my favorite of all is a butternut donut. I don’t get donuts often, but yesterday my friend brought me iced coffee and a lemon donut. That donut was perfectly fresh and delicious, and not a drop of lemon fell.
Categories: Musings
Tags: church', donuts, lemon doonut'plain donut, mood, Sunday
Comments: 12 Comments
April 21, 2013
Last night was cold, and today is chilly though the sun is warm. I envy Fern who is sprawled on the mat by the front door in the sun. Her fur is hot to the touch. Cats know how to live.
My tulips have bloomed. Their bright red is eye-catching. The hyacinths are pink and white and purple and are in the front garden where everyone can see them. My neighbor called and thanked me. She said she looks out her front window often to see how beautiful the colors in the garden are.
I only remember pansies from when I was a kid. They were the only flowers my father planted in the small garden near the front door. I loved their faces. To me they had eyes and mouths and different expressions and they all looked like they were wearing bonnets. I expected them to break out in song. Their voices I figured would be high like the voices in the old cartoons. They’d sing and bob their heads in unison.
When we were really little, my dad would lie on the floor and raise his legs just a bit. We’d get on his feet, stomach first. He’d then raise his legs all the way and up we’d go as high as his legs would take us. He’d hold our hands and spin us using his feet. We’d laugh the whole time. The worse part was we had to take turns. Even this ride had a line.
I loved it when the whole family would jump into the car for a Sunday ride. My dad would pick back roads, and we’d see farms and cows and sometimes horses. My brother and I each had a window. On warm days I’d open the window, and stick out my hand so the wind could blow it.
When I was growing up, my parents did all sorts of stuff with us. I doubt they knew how important all of it would become, how it would become part of who we are now. They gave us a love for museums, the fun of taking a ride with no destination, and the best of all, playing games together at the kitchen table. Tonight my friends and I will play Phase 10 and Sorry, a game I’ve been playing since I was six.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cats, cold day, family fun, feet, games, garden, hyacinths, pansies, rides, sun, Sunday, tulips
Comments: 14 Comments
April 14, 2013
The day has potential. The sun is working its way from behind the clouds so every now and then I see light which gives me a bit of hope. A patch of blue also appears then disappears so I’m thinking maybe a nice afternoon might be the order of the day. I think a lovely Sunday afternoon is the best of all. During the week most people work so lovely goes to waste, and Saturday is generally chore and errand day so though we may get out into the sun we don’t get to enjoy it. It’s just the backdrop. Sunday, by tradition, is the quiet day, a day with no ambitions, a day to be enjoyed.
Tomorrow is a holiday, Patriot’s Day, when we commemorate the Battles of Lexington and Concord. Paul Revere and William Dawes will make their way on horseback to warn everyone the British are coming. This time around, though, state troopers will escort the riders. There is also a reenactment of the Battle on Lexington Green which begins around 5:30 and later, at 9, is one at the Old North Bridge in Concord. Tomorrow is also the marathon. This is the first year in a long time I haven’t worked it, but my back prevents it; instead, I’ll watch the Red Sox. Their game begins at 11 because of the marathon.
This is April vacation week for kids. When I worked, I always went to Europe for the week, to one country or city. They were adult trips: no backpacks or hostels or sleeping on night busses. Usually we rented a car and travelled all over. Portugal is still my favorite trip, but I did love Belgium and the Netherlands. The scariest ride was in the fog through the Black Forest. I couldn’t see the road more than a few feet ahead of the car, and I’d have been doomed if not for the white line. The prettiest rides were through the Ardennes and in the Netherlands with its windmills. My parents were my fellow travelers, and they were great fun. My dad and I played cards every night after dinner while my mother worked on her crossword puzzles. They were amiable travelers and didn’t really care which road we took. All of if was new to us. They never balked at any restaurant and were willing to try new foods. I drove and my mother was the navigator. My father thought he was, but he butchered every language so my mother would repeat the city where we were going, and it never ever sounded even close to what my father had said. He never caught on.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Belgium, Europe, Germany, marathon, navigator, Patriots' Day, Portugal, sun, Sunday, travel, windmills
Comments: 15 Comments
March 3, 2013
A dismal, dark day is becoming the norm. No change in the weather until Tuesday at the earliest. It’s cold: the temperature was 36˚ when I left for breakfast. I know March can be a raw, snowy month, but I’m hoping for something better. I saw a yellow bud in the garden this morning. I don’t know what flower it will be, but I was excited to see color. My clothes today are blue and grey. Even I am drab.
The feeders are empty, and I noticed the suet feeder must have fallen. I’ll have to bundle up to go out to refill the four feeders and rehang the suet.
I have new mice news. For nearly two weeks, none were in the trap upstairs so either they had become quite cagey (ha!) or there were no more. I chose to be optimistic and figured I’d relocated the whole population so I decided to move the trap to the cellar. Maddie loves to go down there, and I know there are mice in the cellar. When I had the two Siamese cats, they stayed in the cellar for hours. The death count was 17: 16 of theirs and one by drowning. Yesterday I checked the trap and I had caught my first cellar mouse. He is now living a mile and a half from here. I wish him well. This afternoon I will check the trap again.
This is the first winter I’ve ever hibernated. We don’t do trivia on Thursdays, and I haven’t seen a movie in a while. I don’t even grocery shop anymore. I wake up every morning and try to figure out the day and if I have anything on my calendar. When I do, I groan a little. I like being home reading and wearing my cozy clothes knowing I can nap should I so choose. I do other things like an occasional cleaning rampage, and the other day I organized the recipes I had snipped from newspapers and magazines. One of the folders I labeled Make These, and I will.
Sunday used to be my busiest and my least favorite day of the week. I’d empty the litter boxes, run the dishwasher, go to the dump, change my bed, do laundry and correct papers. I’d go to bed early as I used to get up at 5 or 5:15.
Looking at that old list of my Sunday chores gives me a bit of a chuckle. Now it takes me three or four days to accomplish the same tasks. I’m no hurry.
Categories: Musings
Tags: chores, hibernating, Sunday
Comments: 18 Comments
November 18, 2012
When I went to get the papers, I gasped a bit for breath not expecting it to be so cold. Frost had iced the lawn and covered the car windows. I hurried back inside, had my first cup of coffee and settled in for a while to read a bit of the paper, but I couldn’t linger as I had to leave earlier than usual to go out for breakfast, even before my second cup of coffee, so I could scrape the car windows. I rummaged through the trunk and found the windshield scraper then went from window to window. I even scraped the window for Gracie. I hated every minute of scraping those windows not because of the effort but because of the significance. That frost is winter’s first assault.
On the way home I noticed lawns being raked mostly by men wearing warm jackets. A few joggers were out running, and they were wearing mittens. One woman, walking her dog, didn’t seem at all phased by the weather. She had on a long sleeve t-shirt and shorts. I was impressed by her hardiness.
The day is pretty with bright sun and a steel-blue sky, but the strong breeze blowing the leaves left on the trees has me thinking the day looks far better from inside rather than outside. When Gracie goes out and stays a while, her ears are really cold when she comes back inside.
When I was young, we never did much on a Sunday. After church we’d hang around the house and maybe watch a TV movie while my mother prepared then cooked dinner, and sometimes we’d sit or lie on the living room rug to play a few games while my father read the paper. He always sat in the same chair by the picture window, and I can still see him holding the paper in front of him. My father read his paper not as a whole but section by section. He’d finish one section then add it to the pile he’d started on the floor beside the chair then he’d pick up the next section and start reading. He always left the sports pages until last.
I read the Sunday papers much like my father did, section by section, and I put each finished section in the recycle bag I keep by the table here in the den. The one difference is in the last section to be read. I always save the travel pages.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cold, cold weather, coming winter, frost, Gracie, jogger, Sunday, Sunday paper, Wind, window scraper
Comments: 13 Comments
November 18, 2012
When I went to get the papers, I gasped a bit for breath not expecting it to be so cold. Frost had iced the lawn and covered the car windows. I hurried back inside, had my first cup of coffee and settled in for a while to read a bit of the paper, but I couldn’t linger as I had to leave earlier than usual to go out for breakfast, even before my second cup of coffee, so I could scrape the car windows. I rummaged through the trunk and found the windshield scraper then went from window to window. I even scraped the window for Gracie. I hated every minute of scraping those windows not because of the effort but because of the significance. That frost is winter’s first assault.
On the way home I noticed lawns being raked mostly by men wearing warm jackets. A few joggers were out running, and they were wearing mittens. One woman, walking her dog, didn’t seem at all phased by the weather. She had on a long sleeve t-shirt and shorts. I was impressed by her hardiness.
The day is pretty with bright sun and a steel-blue sky, but the strong breeze blowing the leaves left on the trees has me thinking the day looks far better from inside rather than outside. When Gracie goes out and stays a while, her ears are really cold when she comes back inside.
When I was young, we never did much on a Sunday. After church we’d hang around the house and maybe watch a TV movie while my mother prepared then cooked dinner, and sometimes we’d sit or lie on the living room rug to play a few games while my father read the paper. He always sat in the same chair by the picture window, and I can still see him holding the paper in front of him. My father read his paper not as a whole but section by section. He’d finish one section then add it to the pile he’d started on the floor beside the chair then he’d pick up the next section and start reading. He always left the sports pages until last.
I read the Sunday papers much like my father did, section by section, and I put each finished section in the recycle bag I keep by the table here in the den. The one difference is in the last section to be read. I always save the travel pages.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cold, cold weather, coming winter, frost, Gracie, jogger, Sunday, Sunday paper, Wind, window scraper
Comments: 13 Comments
keepthecoffeecoming.blog 