Taking Back Sunday
I set out this week to define Sunday.
I wanted to have the kind of Sunday I always see on TV. I went on a mission to have it, dammit.
It started with a slow wake up. So far, so good. The dogs were sweet and sleepy. We were groggy and noncommittal.
We rose and cooked up a breakfast feast. Biscuits and gravy, eggs, and sausage.
We patted our bellies and watched the secret Folz family fav, CBS’s Sunday morning.
We decided we needed to do something. A light bulb went off. “How about the flea market?” I asked. Nick was excited at first. Then he realized that the Giant Flea Market is only open once a month. This was not that week. But I never had that dirt mall in mind. Instead, I hoped to journey to the Diamond Avenue Flea Market. The real dirt mall. A place where McDonald’s toys, commemorative plates, and collectible glassware goes to die.
Then, Nick said something that rocked my world to the core. “I’ve never been to that flea market,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.
It was settled, we were headed to the trashy dirt mall.
We called to invite our “wife”, Tiffany. She agreed to go and we were out the door and headed downtown to pick her up in minutes.
After a brief pit stop at Penny Lane so Nick and Tiff could get their iced chai fix, we were at the flea market.
It was better than I remembered. After some heckling we scored a sports coat ($2), the first three (last three) Star Wars movies on VHS (pre Lucas sfx editing, $3) and some white wall boxes ($3).
From there we took Tiff home and headed for some fun at Valarie’s grandparetns pool.
Their pool is magical. Even though I didn’t know Val when I was 17, being in a grandma’s pool takes you back to that kind of careless youth. I am too old to freeload off someone’s grandparents but they are fantastic and very inviting.
After lounging in the pool and talking to my favorite bride-to-be, we headed home for a brief chill out before dinner at my mom’s.
On the way home, like an oasis in the desert, was a shaved iced stand.
The ice was delicious, the sign was a white trash tragedy.
“Honk if you like it shaved”
Yes, I am serious and I have proof (thanks BlackBerry).
- Evansville, IN
Dinner at my mom’s is a Sunday staple and can’t be missed. Like every week before, we show up a little after 5:00. Dinner is almost ready. My grandma talks to Nick while he looks at the comics in the newspaper. We eat, we catch up, we laugh. After dinner, we walk out back and talk about the progress on my grandma’s garden. Then we leave, full and happy.
I am going to change tenses now. Try to stay with me.
We just got home. We are making preparations for next week. Laundry, dishes, meal plans. Nothing fun. Here in about 20 minutes True Blood will be on. We’ll veg out, pile dogs on us and dread the morning.
We’ll go to bed tired and happy. Worn out from the weekend behind us and curious about the week before us.
Today was a Sunday’s Sunday. It was filled with family, friends, fun, shopping and laughs. It was mellow and busy and fantastic. I suggest you do your best to have a Sunday’s Sunday too.
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There you go letting the world wide webnet my shame of never knowing about the northside flea market.
It was a Sunday’s Sunday, sadly…it is now a Monday’s Monday.