Sunday Living

Life does not get much better than Sunday morning. Alarm clocks are irrelevant. Schedules are pointless. It is all about waking up on a day with no agenda. Nothing to do but live.

Many people go to church on Sunday morning. We go to Steak N' Shake. The people there are just as friendly as any congregation. The sliver-dollar hash browns are divine. No one sings off-key. There is no kneeling or chanting or preaching. Only a quiet semi-comfortable booth. No one drinks any wine or eats any flesh. Just orange juice and toast with jam. I just wish our bill was tax-deductible.

A trip to the mall or a department store is nice after a good meal. No one ever really needs to buy anything, but it helps to do a little walking after a 2,000 calorie breakfast. Besides, it is always good to get a pair swim trunks in February. They're cheap.

Sunday afternoons may actually be better than their morning counterparts. Especially if golf is on. While a golf tournament may often be as exciting as a lopsided curling match, the peace and serenity of the broadcast sets up for a perfect nap. It's all about the whispering.

Everyone should have fried chicken for dinner on Sunday. It doesn't matter if you fix it yourself or get it from KFC or if you have a favorite local joint with the best goddamn chicken in the state. Fried chicken is a must for Sunday. And don't forget the biscuits and gravy and mashed potatoes. Corn works too, but it's not necessary. Don't add too much health to the meal. It's the weekend. You can eat cantaloupe for breakfast on Monday.

Depending on when the golf finished - or some crazy basketball game - 60 Minutes is a natural part of the after-dinner routine. It appears as if the staff is getting younger. But somehow Andy Rooney still has his job. Like him or hate him, he does not have a face for TV.

After the wife and kids head upstairs for bed, the best thing to do on a Sunday evening is to open a beer, put in a Cowboy Junkies album, and write about your day. At least, that's what works for me.