Strangely, for people who like to move as often as we do, we have some rituals and traditions that have endured through the years. One is bagels and the New York Times on Sunday mornings.

We never went in for the Sunday dinner with the family route. Not that we haven’t done this. It simply never became a weekly thing. When my in laws were still alive we usually did Thursday nights with them. My parents lived too far away to establish a routine. But some how bagels and the Sunday Times has endured since the beginning of our marriage. And I miss the bagels when our Sundays are disrupted by other plans.

I went digging through my thousands of disorganized photos taking up insane space on my phone. Not ONE of Sunday morning. Cakes, caprese, turkeys, homemade croissants, pies, table settings, holidays, birthdays…no bagels. Proof that our ordinary customs aren’t being honored sufficiently. I hearby promise, Sunday breakfast photos will be offered once we are back in New York.

Time to glorify the routine elements of life!