Слава Богу, что Сегодня Суббота!

Slava Bogu, shto sevodnya Subbota! Thank God it's Saturday! From the time I was a kid between the ages of five and ten, Saturdays were holy days, not in any religious sense, but just because they were days of the most perfect, delicious freedom. No school. Pancakes and sausage for breakfast. Saturday morning errands riding in the rumble seat of Pop's beloved 1930 Ford Model A roadster. Life was good. Even if it was raining (we didn't ride in the rumble seat then). To me, the magic of Saturday begins on Friday evening. The weekend describes an arc which ascends to its zenith on Saturday evening, then descends to the mournful Sunday evening realization that soon it'll be time to climb back onto the treadmill for another week. Imagine Sisyphus eternally rolling his stone up the hill, only to watch it roll back down again. Except on Saturday, one hopes.