I love Sundays in the city. They
start quietly with a sip of strong
coffee as I write this blog. Once
my readers have been attended to,
I shift all attention to Frank. Truly
"our day", we plan nothing and do
our best to be spontaneous. The
truth be told, we have a routine
but prefer to pretend we don't.
Every Sunday we attend Mass. Catholic guilt aside, the liturgical rituals provide a respite from reality. In search of our spiritual home, we visit a different parish each week. We may have to commute to commune...
After church we simply stroll.
Given we both love to explore,
the best way to do that in
Manhattan is on your feet.
After a very structured week,
this exercise in freedom costs
nothing but is totally priceless.
In this city one could walk
for years and still discover
something new. Try it soon!
Post jaunt, I'm always ready
for brunch. Our midday meal
is usually pure in it's simplicity
yet decadent in it's perfection.
Yesterday I had a divine omelet
and a chilled glass of Chablis.
I left the cafe in a happy haze,
a totally mellow fellow!
Is there anything more glorious that a long afternoon snooze? Nothing seems to be a more perfect preparation for the week ahead. Nor a better antidote for sixty hours you just spent hard at work. Simply pure bliss!
We always end each Sunday
with a quiet supper. Last night
we dined at Deux Amis on 51st
just off First Avenue. Totally low
key and comfortable, we enjoyed
Cassoulet and Boeuf Bourguignon.
That repast combined with several
Bombay Martinis... and suddenly
the prospect of a new week seemed
beyond exciting. I'll drink to that!