Sunday

"Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week."

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Last week we had a discussion over dinner: We live just down the road from the Beecher Bible and Rifle Church (say it fast for the name's full effect.), and yet, we have never attended services there.  College Boy Graham decided this was the week we should go, and I seconded with, "As a family!" (sans the newlyweds in Virginia).  So the four of us were seen walking down the dusty road to church this morning.  We didn't expect to see too many worshipers in the chapel this morning, but we also didn't anticipate that our presence would double the congregation.  After us, three more people arrived to up the numbers even more.  It was a nice service!  Lots of hymns, a really good pianist, and a pastor that held our attention the entire scripture-laced sermon - and his was quite a bit longer than ones we are accustomed to in our Lutheran home church.

After church we headed back home for a very informal Sunday brunch:  College Boy Graham was manning the eggs and bacon on the stove, and we others were picking out our breads/bagels/ croissants, and waiting in line for toaster.  

The past week or two, it has seemed like my beautiful, cherry-red, Oster toaster was acting up: burning most everything.  Several times I have attempted to adjust the settings.  OK.  Alrighty, now: Here is one more arsenal in my fire regarding the use of WORDS in all signs, appliances, automobiles, documents, instructions and related ilk, as opposed to ridiculous little drawings (artistic license runs rampant in those little, teeny graphics, and apparently I am art-blind to most of them.)  Let me ask you: if there is a teeny, little picture of a piece of bread on the side of one's toaster, and it is painted white, and if there is a teeny, little picture of a piece of bread on the side of one's toaster, and it is painted black, would one not assume that the white slice denotes "Lightly-toasted", and the black slice means "I like charcoal."?   Well.  You and I are both wrong, according to the Oster artists.  How did we figure this out, you may ask?  Because daughter Gillian went to toast her french bread this morning, and it was nearly in flames when College Boy Graham discovered it!  Haul out the box fan and turn it on high!  Gillian tried to trouble-shoot my Oster, and when I admitted to re-setting the settings on a number of occasions since she and Graham have been home this month...ah!  There's the rub.  I am art-blind.  I was raised reading words, not modern-day hieroglyphics.  But now we have the toaster well-adjusted, and all is right in our world of Sunday Brunch.

This afternoon, that Spouse o' Mine went out for a bike ride.  Shortly thereafter, I headed into town to pick up groceries.  It's amazing how quickly this family goes through milk, bread, juice, and cheeses, when one, two, three, and now four kids are home.  

I knew that Spouse was up ahead of me a piece, and so I kept my eyes open for the first 8 miles, and then I spotted the red Specialized bike and the rider's red jersey and helmet.  I slowed down considerably.  When I am passing cyclists on our rural road, I slow, and pull clear into the other lane to pass when safe from oncoming traffic.  I want to give wide berth to the rider.  But when I know the cyclist, and particularly that Spouse o' Mine, who is an incredibly steady rider, I slow down considerably, but I only pull away from him a yard or so - and we can have a quick "hello-how's-the-wind?"

And that's what I did this afternoon: slowed down, edged up slowly and made my speed equal to the Specialized bike I recognize so well on the road.  As I eased up equal to the cyclist, I rolled down my window, and yelled at him.  

Uh-oh.    Uh-oh!!

Apparently there are now TWO red Specialized bikes in Wabaunsee County, and TWO cyclists sporting red jerseys and helmets.  AND TWO CYCLISTS WEARING SUCH,  AND SPORTING GOATEES!!!.

And this cyclist was not MY cyclist.  This cyclist looked a little horrified that I was driving so slow and so close and yelling at him (Albeit with a smile on my face and a song in my heart...)  Instantly I realized my error and exclaimed, "OMIGOSHITHOUGHTYOUWEREMYHUSBAND!!"  

And then he laughed.  

And all was well.

Sheesh.

Tonight we are having River Creek Farms lamb, tahina, spanikopita, and some garden things.  Out of our garden. I am not sure what there is to have just yet, but that's what we're having!

And now: on to the volume of the week,
Golden-clasped by our Sunday...