Sunday, July 24, 2005
Sunday Morning Bliss
Ahh Sunday...a day to feel totally at peace. I have always been a big fan of Sunday - the unhurried pace of it - the mellow slide into the new work week.
When I was growing up the daughter of a single working Mom, my Mom rarely cooked, but when she did, it was a nice midday meal on Sunday - and by midday I mean about 3:00-5:00. To this day, it doesn't feel right unless I'm a having a nice meal on Sunday.
Mom would sleep late on Sunday, wake up and stare out the window and drink coffee for an hour, wander down the stairs to read the paper and watch Charles Kuralt on CBS Sunday Morning, slowly back upstairs to do her morning ablutions, then finally about 12 or 1, she would begin to cook.
If Mom had not already pre-planned what she was going to cook, her cooking experience would start with standing in front of the pantry and the refrigerator taking a mental inventory. Sometimes I would be sent to the store to pick up something, but most the time not. Mom liked to challenge herself by using what was currently in the house.
Then Mom would turn on Public Radio and hope for the Sunday edition of "All Things Considered," "A Prairie Home Companion," or "Car Talk" and usually 2 hours later, a wonderful meal would have been created.
That is one of the memories of my Mom I hold dear - a house that smells wonderfully yummy, the sounds of Garrison Keillor telling a hilarious story with Mom chuckling to herself and as I go to the kitchen for a Mason Jar of iced tea, the smile on my Mom's face as she sees me.
What I wouldn't give for another Sunday like that...
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When I was growing up the daughter of a single working Mom, my Mom rarely cooked, but when she did, it was a nice midday meal on Sunday - and by midday I mean about 3:00-5:00. To this day, it doesn't feel right unless I'm a having a nice meal on Sunday.
Mom would sleep late on Sunday, wake up and stare out the window and drink coffee for an hour, wander down the stairs to read the paper and watch Charles Kuralt on CBS Sunday Morning, slowly back upstairs to do her morning ablutions, then finally about 12 or 1, she would begin to cook.
If Mom had not already pre-planned what she was going to cook, her cooking experience would start with standing in front of the pantry and the refrigerator taking a mental inventory. Sometimes I would be sent to the store to pick up something, but most the time not. Mom liked to challenge herself by using what was currently in the house.
Then Mom would turn on Public Radio and hope for the Sunday edition of "All Things Considered," "A Prairie Home Companion," or "Car Talk" and usually 2 hours later, a wonderful meal would have been created.
That is one of the memories of my Mom I hold dear - a house that smells wonderfully yummy, the sounds of Garrison Keillor telling a hilarious story with Mom chuckling to herself and as I go to the kitchen for a Mason Jar of iced tea, the smile on my Mom's face as she sees me.
What I wouldn't give for another Sunday like that...
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