day 8
Those Kinds of Saturdays: Day Old Bread, Missing Blace Lace, & Random Confessions...
When I was in my late 20s living in Brooklyn, Saturdays usually had a reliable rhythm. It went something like this:
8:00 am Meet my elderly, ex-smoking, cranky, New Orleans-bred neighbor who lives in the brownstone five doors down. Go with her to pick up day-old baguettes.
9:00 am Take the loaves to the homeless shelter on 4th Avenue. Unlock the heavy steel doors. Hang out with the other single early birds while making watery pasta and carrot soup for 20 homeless guys.
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1:00 pm Pick up my laundry from the Chinese laundry on 5th avenue. Point out to the counter guy that a pair of black bikini underwear and a matching half slip were missing for the 2nd week in a row while he shakes his head and smiles and pretends he doesn't speak English.2:00 Grab groceries, then flowers, and Thai takeout food-- usually a strange five alarm dish designated with the 4 cartoon chili peppers.
4:00 Dress up for a first run movie with a friend.
Now, wait. Stop. Some Saturdays meant Mass at Saint John's, the plum 5 pm Mass which meets "Sunday obligation." Thirty minutes in and out. This was because no one but 80 year old parishioners who went daily showed up, and there was no music. Zero. No guitars, flutes or dungeon organs. No bad Latin songs turned into warbled hippie folk renditions. And if so inclined, you could do the double header: Confession first then Mass.
Years later, Saturday sometimes has that fresh sweet echo but without the homeless guys and missing underwear. Mostly, the whole service and confessional thing come to mind. So therein lies today's homage:
1.) I saw perhaps a grand total of three Oprah shows my entire life, and I don't even know which ones they were. I have no idea what she was talking about all those years but I'm sure it was fantastic! I did however read all her magazines, see the Color Purple twice and watched her being interviewed on Larry King about sixteen times.
2.) I really don't like cheese. I pretend to love pizza, but sometimes, the smell of cheese makes me think of sweaty guys walking around in sweaty socks in a locker room after someone got sick and threw up.
3.) I think Angelina Jolie ties Brad Pitt up and does things to him, and he likes it.
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4.) When I was eight months pregnant with Lily, my neighbor let his two tartan coat wearing Scottish terriers defecate on my lawn. Unbeknownst to him, I was hanging a border in the nursery and spotted them. I opened the window and begin screaming. Whatever I screamed, I never saw them again. I immediately went into labor. Weird. A Twilight Zone Episode for sure
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5.) I think there was a Jesus but I'm pretty sure that he did not have watery blue eyes, thin blond hair and baby soft manicured hands and feet. Walking in the desert for forty days does things to a man...we're talking brown skin, crusty soles and dry hair.
6.) If my house goes up in roaring flames, I'm fairly certain I will not be running back for my cat or the wedding photos.
Good night,
~Wanda
