Saturdays held the family rituals that I remember from when I was small, most of them are food-related. Mom would bake bread that day. I remember helping her punch down the dough, and the wonderful smell of the finished product coming out of the oven. I think she made cinnamon rolls, too, but I may be just wishing… Saturday night supper consisted of corn and beans and bread. Mom did deep brown beans in a slow cooker that day, with molasses in them, and were they ever good!
When I was in Bible college I went on a music tour with one of the teams PRBI would send out, and we would billet at peoples houses. I walked into one such house and was immediately transported back to my five year old days; the beans smelled just right, just like mom’s recipe! MMMM!
And I have always liked the colors yellow and brown together; it creates some sort of deep-seated, Saturday night satisfaction in my soul... I would eat my yellow smarties last, forget that song about the red ones…
We were allowed to have a cup of tea on Saturday night (but not too much, it might stunt your growth!), and we would watch Hockey Night In Canada. The girls always cheered for Montreal, and the boys always cheered for Boston. We usually ended up with four angry boys and two happy girls…
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