I Love Sundays

I've never been sure whether Sunday is the end of the week or the beginning. For me it has always felt like a free day sandwiched between the last week and the next. I think that's why I love Sundays the way that I do: earnestly, endlessly, eagerly. Today is no different.

I have happily spent most of the weekend at home. I'm not happy that I contracted a probable case of pink eye or that my three year old oven isn't heating beyond 100 degrees, but I have resisted with all my will the urge to say why me. I got to thinking that when good things come into our lives with abundance, we don't question our fortune. We lap it up, revel in it, come to expect more. I actually said why not me. The good with the bad. This is life. It is what it is.

With that in mind, I set out to put together a care package for my friend who will be taking care of her husband. He just had surgery last week and will have more this week. I made stock and then turned that rich goodness into the most comforting pot of chicken with wild rice soup. Eating this soup is like getting a hug. I also made my favorite banana bread and a spinach pie that are the most comforting of eats. I am thankful for the counter top oven we bought for our remodel and then had they foresight to keep. I got my exercise yesterday running up and down the stairs with goods to bake. When I finish here, I'll make a loaf of pheasant bread because what is a bowl of soup without a hunk of crusty bread? Blasphemous is what it is. And this is the way I show my love. I feed you. I am my Grandmother's granddaughter.

I thought of Rosie yesterday while I was juicing some oranges. They were no longer lookers. Lily was sending them back uneaten in her lunch at the end of the day, but I couldn't bear to throw them out. I was juicing and Lily was making a quesadilla for lunch and I heard myself prattle on about there being no need to, no excuse for wasting food. I must have lived a past life in less abundant times. I've never been a clean your plate advocate. Instead I wrap it up for later. Someone, something will eat it I say. Rosie would be proud. She lived through the depression and have five children to feed. Her providence rubbed off on me.

And speaking of which, Lily went thrifting with a friend Friday night. When I was her age, many a Saturday was spent that way. We'd go Brady Street in search of wool college sweaters, men's blazers and funky jewelry. Once in awhile a structured hat. Something to wear out that night.Then we'd stop at Exclusive and buy records with any leftover money.

As much as things change, they stay the same. You know there's some comfort in that too.

Ah, but I digress. Today will be a healthy mix of want tos and need tos. Most days are. I want to bake and read and keep my title as Wizard champion of the weekend. Gin champ too. I need to do laundry and get some exercise and thoroughly wash my kitchen floor. I'll do it all with a grateful heart because I can and because I love Sundays.