Before I sink in to what I hope becomes a new habit, I have to start by telling you what this new-would-be habit I hope to start is. I want to start sharing highlights, thoughtfulness, and a small peek into me each Sunday. Full transparency, I’m borrowing this idea from Joy the Baker and her “Let It Be Sunday” musings.
I’ve followed Joy on Instagram for years. I’ve loved reading her recipes and viewing her carefully curated profile. Regardless, a few weeks ago something made me dig deeper. I’m not sure how it started or what sparked me to go read her non-recipe posts. Anyways – I’ve been hooked and now as part of my Sunday, I make stop at her blog. I recommend it.
Also – this is the first Sunday musing (also why can’t I think of any other word?). I’m hoping this evolves into a more thought out structure – but here we are. And we’ve got time.
Sundays are wild and weird. There’s always a calmness to Sundays. To me, it’s the day that you should practice your gratitude and spend time to prepare for the week ahead. There’s something ritualistic in the thoughtfulness. When you can find the thoughtfulness, Sunday becomes a lot less scary.
That being said, there is something scary that cannot be missed. Groceries. I prefer when we get groceries on a Saturday but it usually happens on a Sunday. Why am I bringing this up? Because while at the grocery store this morning, I realized something… I find someone at the grocery store that we will inevitably run into multiple times throughout multiple aisles. There’s always a cast of characters: creepy dad who you have to get away from, angry middle-aged (I think that’s me now?) lady who will run you over with the cart, person who has no idea where they’re at and look completely and utterly devastated, and then – once in a great while, you’ll find the person with a kind face who is trying to make it through unscathed and undefeated by the grocery monster.
This person presents in many different forms. I liked today’s version. A man who I assumed had a cat and while lonely on the surface, was filled with love for humanity.
Here’s the other thing I’m very fond of: creating life stories about people I’ve never met. They’re always kind and sometimes sad. It helps me keep patience and I suppose, it lends to my knack for outlandish stories and deep desire to see the best in people.
Sundays also lend themselves to laundry. Laundry is another strange thing. I have a visceral (is that right?) reaction to getting a stain out. A sense accomplishment and pride that I’ve never found anywhere else. It’s a simple challenge and I feel like I’ve single-handedly saved the world. Me. And me alone did remove this spaghetti stain from an $8 shirt from Target. Dare you to ever accomplish anything greater.
There’s also a clear role division on laundry day that right or wrong aligns with the patriarch. Here’s the difference, my husband is more than capable. He’s done his own laundry for longer than I have – but I do this one thing because it serves my needs. I need to show my kindness by gifting you something or doing a service. It’s my love language. My laundry language as it were. So before you get mad – I am also down to take down the fragile male ego and curse the patriarchy – all while wearing my clean + STAIN FREE Target shirt.
There’s one other thing I’ll leave you with this week: Granola. Every Sunday we make granola. It’s part of our wellness-focused outlook this year. I recommend you make some! This week’s selection comes from NYT Cooking (as most things do). It’s the Eleven Madison Park Granola and it’s delish.
I hope this Sunday musing was entertaining. I’ll look forward to more friends.
Xo love kim