Sundays began with a different pace. The paper is thicker, it requires more time to digest. Coffee is sipped not gulped, breakfast is later, maybe into brunch.
Sunday church, is optional, or not. There is time to cook a bigger meal, and plan to move less.
Sundays can seem sad to me also. I grew up with extended family around and since married with children, we have always lived away from "Sundays."
There is a funeral going on right now, a mother is saying good-bye to her young son, her Sundays will never be the same.
People are working in their yards, I never understand what they are blowing?? I think leaf blowers should be banned, or at least made silent!!! I'm convinced our neighbor just straps his on, for endless hours, to stay out of his house!! I also think that the BIG leaf blower is all he has, go figure!! Strap it on!!!
Football is on several of our TV's, a constant in the fall. I'm waiting for tennis, and Nadal. I may be fifty-eight, but momma is not dead!!! He has a good serve, and that's all I'm saying.
True Blood is on tonight and I love me some vampires!!! It is the most well written show on the tube in a long time. Sookie Stackhouse and her fairy self. Delicious.
My ramblings, just a normal Sunday stroll.
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Looking forward to tennis. I worked at the ATP headquarters for 4-1/2 years—thousands of photos of the players...the PERFECT job for a middle-aged woman! Love ya, Harriet
ReplyDeleteThe Sundays of my youth centered around two streets where all of my Italian family members lived...The Kennedy's had nothing on us! We had our own kind of compound. We started the day waking in grandma's house to the sound of Italian opera on the radio and the slap, slap, slap of her mop washing the linoleum kitchen floor. The smells wafting up were of the Sunday sauce and meatballs, and sausage simmering on the stove for our 1:00 lunch. I would attend mass at a beautiful old cathedral...the kind they don't make anymore...pipe organ, stained glass, vaulted ceiling, apse and nave, and most of all, we knew all of the members of the congregation. We walked to and from services, stopping to greet cousins, aunts, uncles, and people who might have been relatives, or not...everyone related at some degree. Back to grandma's house for lunch with cousins, aunts, uncles, and anyone else who walked in the house...all made from scratch, including the vino da'tavola...wine made by my grandpa. There was lots of noise, flying cutlery, loud talking, and most of all laughter and love. I miss it, but a Sunday doesn't pass where I don't think that I hear the cathedral bells of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel calling me to mass and back home I go.
ReplyDeleteDid you also visit cemeteries? For some reason, we had to go visit the dead people!!
ReplyDeleteOh yes! Cemeteries were an all day deal. My mother knew all of the "people' of the people interred. She had my brother and me run the watering can back and forth as she planted and weeded, and had her quiet conversations with relatives. My aunt also had a funeral parlor. We played in the rooms when she didn't have 'guests.' It all just seemed normal to us!
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