Saturdays

One of my favorite things about summer living is the Saturday morning ritual. It’s been out of whack for about the last 5 months because of weddings, late nights out, and weekends out of town, but today in a stunning twist of fate, I made it happen.

I slept in until 9, left the bed unmade (oh, the humanity!) and made Alterra’s Blue Heeler coffee in my French press. I turned on WBEZ for Louie and put it on my phone as I walked in the early morning to Whole Foods. Lots of people are out in my neighborhood in the morning; similar to Southport, they’re largely families or 30-somethings just out and about before the whole world shakes off their slumber.

Grocery shopping to Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me is probably one of the most simply luxurious things I can think of doing on a Saturday. It’s also amusing to see how many people look at me funny when I can’t help but giggle in the orange juice. Breakfast food in tow, I headed home to make eggs and toast and more coffee to listen to Paula Poundstone come from behind and take the win this week.

When I started listening to NPR in the morning, it was because Miss Chicago made me as she would put it on before going to work. At first, I found the whole concept rude. As in, “Please! Stop talking to me! I just woke up!” but now I find it comforting to know what the traffic is doing in my former hometown. But on the weekends, it took reprogramming the Saturday ritual after an obnoxious breakup for me to really fall in love with This American Life.

Believe the hype, people. The stories Ira Glass brings into your ears every weekend truly ARE significant enough to stop you in your tracks, make you sit down and listen to the chronic condition of humanity. This week, the third act was an incredible retelling of one of my most loathed things from being a tweenager — babysitting. In Glass’s words: you don’t want to miss this.

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