Saturday, July 30, 2016

If Sunday's are 'easy' then...

I need to have a word with Lionel Ritchie.
He sings on and on about how 'easy' Sunday mornings are. But if they're so easy, just what do you call this:

I am usually up early on Saturday mornings. It's this thing my husband and I do, where we rotate getting up early with the kids so one of us gets to sleep in one of the weekend days. Of course our kids are grown now and I am getting up to keep the CAT quite.
But, I digress...
Truthfully, I love getting up early on Saturdays. Especially when it is nice outside. And for the first time in, oh I don't know – one million days – the humidity here on the Coast of Illinois is finally below one thousand percent and the temp is a sweet 77 degrees.
Consequently, JoeyKatt and I enjoyed a peaceful early morning deck sit. (After I combed a knot out of his fur causing him to bit the crap out of my arm and then curl up like a REAL CAT on my lap to sleep.)
As I was sitting there on the deck, sleeping cat in my lap, blood oozing down my arm, I noticed just how quietly noisy our backyard is.
I have three bird feeders and a squirrel platform in the yard. There is a definite feeding schedule out there.
On work days I fill the feeders super early – 0550 or 0600 – and the mob of squirrels who reside in our maple bush condo hit the feeders like teenagers on a feeding frenzy after an all night gaming session.
On Saturday I don't fill the feeders until 0630 or 0700. The teenage squirrels are now passed out from their late night partying. The grownup squirrels are out, but they calmly eat at the platform or from the ground seeds thus allowing the birds to actually dine at their feeders. Chickadees and wrens first, then a hesitant cardinal and a squawking blackbird. The hummingbirds zing back and forth.
It's a cacophony of chirps, tweets and peeps.
I sit on my cushion, coffee in hand, purring cat a random arm bite away and take in the rustle of tree leaves as the sun slowly climbs and it occurs to me, Lionel Ritchie is wrong.
Sunday's are not easy – when our kids were small they were a riot of feeding, dressing, churchgoing, lunching, family outings, school prepping, lunch packing.
Saturday's were the random cartoon, breakfast, anything can happen days.
But I guess, Impromptu like Saturday Morning didn't flow as well in the song.

Saturday's are also for breakfast.
When our kids were little it was 'farmer breakfast' – eggs, bacon/ham/sausage, fruit, pancakes/biscuit/french toast.
Now it is 'pontoon' breakfast:
um, we're gonna need a bigger plate...
We discovered this at the Ozark Yacht Club cafe. They fold all the yumminess between a 'pillow of hash browns'. I use the much raftier hash brown patties with sausage links, over easy egg and cheese sandwiched between.

Impromptu Like Saturday Morning...

If you have time - check out the new Featured Post to the right below Blah Blah! I will be featuring some of my old stuff, posted back when I had no idea what was going on here in the blog world....


  1. Yep. Both days can be either frantic or "easy." It just depends.

    1. I have been spoiled by 3 day weekends, when I get a stupid 2 day weekend it really leans towards frantic!

  2. Now that's a breakfast sandwich I will have to add to my repertoire.

  3. Replies
    1. it's when that flow becomes white water rapids...


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