Sunday is a day of rituals. The one day to sleep in. The luxury of sleeping till 7:32. Heavy moss green curtains ordered from Amazon that block cold and light are now closed. They are left open the other six days of the week. Upon waking the same rituals apply, a cup of tea and a smoke, later a visit to the bathroom. The view up and down Fifth Street beckons to me, the spring sun in the East blinds.
I stand on the porch. I sit at my glass top table. I wander in my yard. All with a mug of tea in my hand. The mug today is from Chile. I have other mugs; Amazon, Eire, Reading, and Britain and plan to get one from Denmark. Lacking is one from Scotland.
Nick brings the Sunday paper home. With my cup of tea, I read the Pacific Northwest insert. The beautiful photos and intriguing local stories make me happy and creative. I may wander back in to watch the Sunday Morning show the name of which, eludes me right now. But that show also depends on who has slept on the couch. Sometimes we have breakfast in, sometimes out or not at all.
Today brings the thought of working in the yard, writing and maybe a bike ride to hunt mushrooms (An annual ritual). I do what I want today according to the weather and family demands. But also I look forward to the little rituals we have.
Tonight we will cook and dine to Beyond Borders and 60 Minutes.
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