I love Sundays.  I always have.  I don’t know why.

Growing up the Sunday routine was always as follows:  get up, go to church, come home and get changed.  We always had our main meal at noon on Sunday, prepared by Grandmom.  It always was (at least as far as I can remember) some kind of pasta and I think salad.  She made the best Pasta Fagioli in the world, as well as homemade Ravioli.  Sigh.  I cannot find another replacement for them.

Sunday afternoon’s were spent either finishing homework; which was rare since I usually did homework Friday right after school so I had the weekend to myself; or reading.  I would curl up on the sofa in the den.  Dad inevitably had football, baseball or golf on TV and was shouting his coaching directions to “his team.”  Or telling the ref how blind he was.  You guys know the drill!

I can’t tell you how many times when there was a good putt or a touchdown, he would yell in great joy throwing his hands in the air in glee and I would jump 20 feet in the air, not noticing what was going on around me since I had been transported to other worlds through my book.

I honest can’t remember what we did for “dinner” during the traditional five o’clock hour.  Perhaps when Mother reads this blog she can fill us in via the comment box.  Mother, you’re turn!

I have maintained that Sunday tradition through out my life.  I generally do not cook a big family meal on Sunday’s, claiming it as my “day off from work” especially when I was a SAHM.  We eat heavily at the lunch hour and nibble our way till bed time.  Alas, now I do homework on Sunday afternoons since my Friday’s are taken up with another writing project and other days with cleaning, food shopping, work, etc.  But that’s okay.  I still manage to enjoy reading something even if it is only the comics in the newspaper.

The last few months, though, I have found myself very sleepy by mid-afternoon.  Frankly, by the time I get home from church, usually around noon, I am absolutely exhausted.  Thus sitting down to do homework, which generally requires a lot of reading, finds me drifting off to sleep in a short amount of time.   And those naps are not just “little” ones.  I drop off to sleep and I am down for the count! I’m finding that I kind of like the napping “thing.”  I may have to keep that as a permanent fixture!

What are your favorite memories of Sunday afternoons?  Have you carried any of those favorites into your current Sunday afternoons?

A good week to you all dear readers!


6 thoughts on “Sundays

  1. My favorite Sunday memories are of bicycling to church in Germany with my brand-new husband — it seemed like *everybody* either walked or cycled to church, and I did love it. Afterwards, we’d go for a drive, and usually get coffee at one of the numerous cafes that were open on Sundays.

    The best, though, were at Christmastime, when we’d drive down to Worms to listen to a children’s choir sing Christmas carols, and then go out for hot lemonade at a nearby cafe. That children’s choir was so beautiful — hard to believe those little tykes are now middle-aged themselves!!

  2. I remember the frantic rush to find shoes for everyone and occasionally getting them polished on Saturday night if we could find them. I remember once when one of my brothers went to church wearing slippers cause we couldn’t find his shoes. Don’t remember why the shoes got lost so much though. After church we’d get home to a roast chicken or beef roast and I’d peel potatoes to complete the meal. Sunday nights we got to watch Disney’s Wonderful World of Color.

  3. Oh the memories that question brought to mind! We would have to lay out our clothes and shine our shoes on Saturday night, and my mom got us all to church on Sunday morning. When we came home we would have pancakes for lunch, and then pot roast for supper. The rest of the day was playtime, outdoors with the neighborhood kids, and wasn’t Ed Sullivan on tv on Sunday evenings? I remember envying my friend whose family was lucky enough to have popcorn and root beer for supper every Sunday evening!

  4. We usually have pinto beans cooked on the stove all day with fry bread or (my favorite) homemade tortillas.

    I always come home, change into comfy clothes, and read the paper while drinking coffee.

    I don’t have any particular memories of Sundays growing up, I didn’t regularly go to Mass until I was about 12-13.

  5. The Sundays we are able to get to Church are my favourites; everything seems bright and joyous.
    When we can’t, it doesn’t matter what I cook or what we do, it is never the same !

  6. Sweetheart, All I can remember about Sunday evenings was a supper of soup and crackers, or a sandwich or I would go to Mancuso’s for a Pizza shell. Then Gram would whip up sauce and put mouzerella cheeze on top and bake. We usually would by two cause one wasn’t enough. Or we would go visit Tzia Lina and Tzio Tom and we would talk over coffee and cake and alittle wine . Sometimes she would bring out leftovers to munch on. You kids loved to go there because she always had pizzelles and other homemade cookies for you. i’m not too sure of other memories they are a little vague at this time, Love you

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