I hate Mondays, not.

I love Mondays. There is the promise of a new week, a chance to get ‘everything’ done, a fresh start. Then we end up at Tuesday. Tuesday feels a little like an extra day that was put in just to make sure we had a 7 day week. Maybe it’s because for me the rush of energy I entered the week with, has ebbed a bit, kind of like the crash after consuming too much coffee or chocolate. 

Wednesday. Now we are talking. I love Wednesdays. There is something about the symmetry of being in the middle of the school/work week, and it was the day I always spent the night at Goggy’s apartment. Wednesday nights started because of Charlie’s Angels. In second grade, our television broke, and my mom was very happy not to replace it. I was pretty okay about that too since I loved to read. However, once I started to hear about Charlie’s Angels at school, I knew I had to figure out a way to watch this show. A midweek sleepover at Goggy’s proved to be just the ticket. 

During the weekend before each Wednesday night, Goggy and I would plan. We needed to figure out what to make for dinner, make sure there were enough snacks, and of course, remember to get a Hostess treat to go in my lunch for Thursday. I did not care much for the Hostess pies and would usually look to trade those with my classmates. I loved Ding-Dongs and the pink Snoballs. I would slowly eat the brittle, chocolate outer shell or peel off the coconut-dusted marshmallow coating and use my fingers to pull it apart, bite by bite. 

Wednesday nights would start with Goggy changing out of her uniform into a housecoat and more comfortable shoes, her work shoes pressed on her bunions. The tv would be turned on. Goggy needed to catch up on the local news with a cigarette. I would settle in at the dining room table with my homework. A relish tray of pickles, olives, and sticks of celery and carrot would magically appear at some point. 

Once homework was complete then it was time to set up the TV trays. Of course, Goggy’s TV tray was set up next to her favorite chair and side table, the one with a drawer for her rosary and saint cards, close to the window allowing the cigarette smoke to waft away from our multi-generational lungs. I would position myself about 5 feet from the tv in the middle of the room with a chair from the dining room set. Next came the silverware and napkins, paper because it was a weeknight.

As soon as dinner was ready, I took my place waiting for Goggy to bring out my plate. If we were feeling a bit goofy then we would mimic The Galloping Gourmet, taking a bite and then a long pause before declaring the meal a success. If we were particularly hungry then we might offer a quick ‘bon appetit’ in a Julia Child’s voice. Just because we ate at TV trays did not mean we did not respect the food before us. 

Let the Wednesday line up of shows begin.

Ready for your next post?

How many times have you read Moby Dick?

My walks with Maisie covered the same ground at least once a day if not multiple times a day, and I am still noticing new things or observing more closely the things I thought I knew. The same can happen when we revisit a book, a painting, a piece of music, or even attend a weekly meeting with the same people. Staying curious in the familiar may yield the biggest surprises.

There is a ghost in my closet

From a very early age I was drawn to clothing and other adornments. I loved going through my grandmothers’ closets and jewelry drawers, examining each piece and occasionally trying things on. While neither grandmother owned anything very fancy or costly, I never got tired of combing through the treasure trove of their dressers and closets. 

The Story You’re still Writing

The Story You’re still Writing

The Story You're still Writing No matter how broken, lost, or uncertain life may feel, your story is not finished. In this episode, we talk about healing, growth, identity, and the quiet power of choosing to keep going-even when life doesn't look the way you imagined....