Weekend Rhythms

It’s not that I don’t love my job; it’s that I love my family and my home. Friday night comes and, wow! I can hardly wait to pull into my driveway. The weekend has its own distinct rhythms, and I have come to honor and respect them. Yes, indeed, to cherish them.


Friday usually means leaving work after the market closes. I rarely stay past five and hope to leave a little past four. As it’s typically the slowest day of the week, I work accordingly, catching up on all of the things in my inbox and other administrative tasks left behind in the swoosh of client calls and market volatility. The drive home holds less tension than do the other four work days. Bloomberg radio, my constant driving companion, is more tolerable. On Fridays, I feel slightly less responsible for carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. That’s what others are hired to do, what politicians are expected to do. I literally feel my body settling deep down into my leather car seat as I wind my way through the Connecticut countryside. There is a discernible calmness of mind and of spirit. For I know that I will be able to focus my energies, for two days anyway, on everything else that I have going on in my life.


That night almost always means food from our favorite local Asian restaurant. And while we try to mix up the selections from week the week, we find that it’s consistency in flavors nourishes not only our bellies, but our spirits as well. Few things calm me down for the weekend ahead more than does a piping hot bowl of curried soup. I usually desire an almost immediately horizontal position shortly thereafter. It is one of the few times during the week that I turn into a potato before darkness sets into the night. A movie on cable might follow. Or some TV time with my hubby or kids. But generally, Friday evening to me and my family means tummies full of Asian food, our dog at one of our feet, and a blanket covering a body that has gone completely limp.


Saturday morning is another story entirely. For me, it means an early rise and a good game of tennis with the gals. Court time is 8 AM sharp, and the combination of chasing down balls, a decent sweat and a lot of laughter is my favorite start to the day.


And then one of my favorite rituals takes place: my Saturday morning trip to the local grocer. My husband oftentimes offers to go instead, but I remind him that to deny me the trip is to strip me of one of the most emotionally enjoyable experiences of my week. The grocery store is legendary. Stew Leonard’s claims to be the largest dairy store in the world. But to me, it means the freshest fruits and vegetables that I can find, plenty of naked chicken and beef and pork, and one of the best selections of seafood in the area. The store is laid out in a maze, and once entered, it is very difficult to turn around and start all over again, as you’ll be going against traffic if you do. A walk down the first aisle finds me squeezing Florida oranges, eyeing the freshly baked muffins, pinching French baguettes and enjoying a sample size of just-brewed coffee.


It’s on to the deli counter, where “naked” meats, all without preservatives or fillers or antibiotics or hormones are served up with a smile. But my favorite aisles are those bearing freshly-picked herbs and vegetables. Ahhh! There’s nothing like a whiff of fresh cilantro to get one’s creative culinary juices flowing! An hour later, groceries are placed into the cloth bags that I carry in with me; an effortless commitment to a greener grocery trip is one of its rewards.


The lunch treat is chock full with my discoveries. Fresh mozzarella and vine-ripened tomatoes. Avocados. Berries. Could it get any better than that?


Saturday afternoon usually affords me either the luxury of working on one of my miscellaneous projects: a new book or a proposal or assembling a few sunshine baskets. Or catching up on my mail. I love getting lost in the work that lies on my home office desk. Ignored by me all week for utter lack of time or energy, it demands my attention by Saturday afternoon, and I am happy to oblige. The work carries me into the night, at which point my brain is no longer able to fully function. Thinking through a multitude of potentialities, the speed and variety which sometimes feels like raindrops falling into a waterfall, I have to lay down in an effort to calm my mind down. A horrible napper, I like to try midday nonetheless. The Saturday afternoon nap is a weekend ritual that is, to me, irresistible in concept anyway.


The evening gives me the time to cook up some of that wonderful food that I bought only hours earlier. Working in my French kitchen, I remain inspired by the great French chefs who have come before me. For I’m just a country cook. A home cook. Trying to please just my family and me. And sometimes friends, too, when we’re fortunate enough to have them over to share in the bounty.


It’s very French to slow down and enjoy the process of preparing food for your loved ones. If you stopped and asked some of the world’s best cooks what their secrets were, I suspect that the mere slowing down to work through the process would be one of them. Of taking the time to slice the vegetables. Or rolling out the dough. Cutting off the stems and peeling the fruit. Setting the table with beautiful china and linens and silver and candles.


And on Sunday, our laziest of all days, when other than attending worship services and leisurely catching up on our favorite magazines, books or papers, we hang out as a family and delight in the art of doing nothing. A nibble here and perhaps another meal or two to prepare, the weekend ends on a note of contentment and peace. Yes, the kids command our attention. Yes, the dirty laundry screams at me from its basket. And the crumbs on the floor need sweeping. The dog walking. But the rhythms of the weekend give us pause from the pressures of life. Our bodies, designed to take note and give in, relish the gaps in time that only the weekend brings.


I hope that as you contemplate re-calibration and the changes that it may inevitably bring to your work week, your family and your personal bottom line, that you are able to see them, as I have. And to respect and honor them. In order to increase your level of peace. Family harmony. Of infusing beauty into your home. Nourishing food into bodies. Oh! The weekend. Blissful intervention into the state of the world in which we find ourselves.


Peace,


Carolina