I think it’s safe to say that Saturday is the most popular day of the week. Who doesn’t love Saturday? That’s not a rhetorical question. If you, or someone you know, doesn’t love Saturday I’d be interested in hearing about it. Even MOH, who works a 24 hour shift two out of every three Saturdays, agrees that Saturday is the best day of the week.
I think for most, the love of Saturday starts when you’re a kid. When I was a kid, Saturday morning meant eating Cap’n Crunch or Boo Berry in front of Saturday morning cartoons. Josie and the Pussycats, Speed Buggy, The Hair Bear Bunch, and of course the Bugs Bunny Road Runner Hour were the best. Saturdays often included a trip to the library to get a new supply of books for the week and receiving my allowance for doing assigned chores, but the highlight of my childhood Saturdays was going to The Dump with my dad.
Today, we politely call it a landfill and I don’t think it’s open to the public. But back in the day, even though my family lived in the village limits, we didn’t have curbside trash pick-up. On Saturday – sometime before noon – Dad would load our weekly accumulated garbage into the trunk of our car – or later, in the back of our van – and drive the few miles out of town to The Dump. We would drive up the hill, back the car up to the giant chasm, and heave our garbage into the pit. It was always disappointing when something got hung up on the side of the hill and didn’t travel all the way to the bottom. It was great when we had some big and heavy (preferably something round or with wheels) that you could get rolling and picking up speed as it bounced along on its final journey. I didn’t have much strength so I always hoped for something small, but with some heft, that I could pitch in. Ahhh, the thrill.
When our son was young, Saturdays included a mix of organized activities; scouting events, soccer, and swim. But he also had his fair share of lazy backyard activities that were similar to that of MOH and me. Playing on a swing set, biking, skating, making forts out of any materials available and running through the sprinkler. As a family, we spent many of our summer Saturdays camping, pulling our camper up north and staying in state campgrounds. Eventually we found a campground downstate that we liked so much we became seasonal campers, renting a lot for the entire summer and heading out to meet up with friends every weekend. We discovered Saturdays are great for day drinking, inventing new drinks with fun names (Sand in the Crack is an interesting variation of Sex on the Beach), and participating in shenanigans.
And what tribute to Saturday could be complete without mentioning naps? As a teenager and right into young adulthood, sleeping is a pretty important Saturday activity. Whether recovering from a fun Friday night or preparing for a late Saturday night, or both, getting some extra sleep on Saturday is both a necessity and a joy. Exhausted parents, grandparents, campers, day drinkers – actually any adult, I think – can appreciate a Saturday afternoon snooze. The amount of pictures I have of sleeping souls serves as a testament.
Our camping days are over, and with MOH’s current work schedule I spend most of my Saturdays just hanging out at home. That’s okay. I’m a home body at heart. Sometimes I get a lot done. Sometimes I get nothing done. Sometimes I get a lot of nothing done. I like it. I remember as a kid asking Mom about what she or my dad were doing. She would often reply, “Oh, just puttering.” At the time I didn’t really know what that meant. Now it’s my favorite thing! In fact, you will find me on two out of every three Saturdays spending most of my time puttering; three out of three if I can get away with it.
For the last year or so, I’ve been blogging on my Saturday mornings. In the beginning I had some self-imposed rules and deadlines so I didn’t spend all my time musing and none of it writing. I’ve lightened up as time has gone on. There shouldn’t be too many rules when you’re doing something for fun. On the other hand, I really do need to have a cut-off point so I can get to my puttering. Oh, and also, at some point, I’m going to need to nap.