Dirty Dishes

Oh, I have a lot to say about last week's DesignMom feature!  I still can't believe that they really wanted to feature my house - my family.  I'm pinching myself.

I had so much fun with the photo shoot.  A friend came over and helped me scoot chairs and plump pillows and remove clutter and laugh.  Mostly, it's laughing that what is normally an every-day scene can be dolled up into a fancy-pants fashion photo.  It was so satisfying to see the inherent wonderfulness in my life - the beauty that I'm usually too busy to acknowledge.

A night or two later, I was headed to bed, trying my best to ignore the whisperings of the dirty dishes on the counter.  I really shouldn't leave them until morning, I know.  Not just because of flies and the health department, but mostly because my sweet husband does breakfast and a messy kitchen makes him crazy.  I appreciate that he takes the morning shift and I don't want him to have angst that early!

I was so tired, though!  I walked back to the bedroom with the image of the stack of soup bowls and piles of dirty spoons still flitting around in my head.  I'm grateful for those dishes.  It's a testimony that my family was well-fed tonight.  Before I could climb into bed, I just had to grab my camera and head back to the kitchen.  It only took a moment or two to grab the shot (and then I went to bed anyway).

The next day, I was looking through the raw files, getting ready to crop and edit the pictures to the format DesignMom wanted.  There, with all the pretty pictures was the shot of the dirty dishes, awkwardly hanging around the cheerleaders like a seventh grader with braces.  Oh yeah, that was me.

I don't know why I included that late-night picture.  I was sure they wouldn't use it in the article.  It wasn't prepped, it wasn't pretty, no natural light...who wants to see my dirty dinner dishes?

It's part of our life, and they included the picture in the home feature.  I gasped when I saw it, then bubbled up with giggles.  Really??

I guess we don't need to look that hard to find beauty in our lives.  Dirty dishes and all.

Today I...

Today I washed a load of towels.  The second time, after I had forgotten about it and let it sit in the washing machine overnight.  Then, I actually dried those towels, and got another load of towels all the way through.  I think I'll let those ones sit in the dryer overnight though, because that's ok.

Today I made four loaves of banana bread.  Trent brought a big box full of over-ripe bananas home from the store.  They sell a whole box of them for only $4 - if you get there quite early in the morning.  So now we have enough to freeze for shakes and we can make banana bread.  I would be more excited about the fruit if it wasn't the second box he's brought home in a week.  We're plum full of bananas.  So the twins and I made sweet banana bread with the yellow fruit that looked most disgusting black  ready for banana bread.

I was planning to make banana muffins too, but I ran out of flour.  I went into the laundry room/pantry/craft space/furnace room/storage area where we keep the wheat grinder.  I filled it up with wheat and turned it on to "jet takeoff."  I'm glad I can walk out of there and close the door - that wheat mill is so noisy!  I walked back in to check on it a few minutes later, only to find that I had not pushed in the lower bowl all the way.  Ai, ai ai!  The whole room looked like a scene from a bad Christmas movie!  Every visible surface was coated with white, powdery flour.  Clouds of flour were pouring out of the machine, creating a mystic flour fog that added to the ambiance.  Why didn't I take a picture?  I was too busy trying to find the mill to turn it off.  I spent the next long while cleaning up endless dusty messes.

Today I swept the floor in the laundry room - several times.  And then I decided that since I had to deep clean in there anyway, I might as well drag the compound miter saw in there and cut some wood for a project I've been wanting to do.  And then I swept the floor again.

Today I went to the temple and breathed clean, white temple air.  It was glorious to just sit there and look at the very light carpet that I didn't have to worry about keeping clean.  I loved letting my soul breathe and be filled.

Today I drove with my neighbor's daughter who is learning how to drive.  I was not traumatized.  My friend insisted that I sit in the front seat, so she could sit in the back and play solitaire and not watch the driving.  She must play solitaire in a more gripping manner than I am used to, since she kept shrieking and gasping.  I think the daughter is coming along nicely, but I am concerned about the health of her mother.  I hope her blood pressure normalizes soon.

Today I walked my daughter to kindergarten for the last time.  The next time we go to school together, she will be a first grader.  Holy time warp, Batman!  I stopped at the front corner of the school, gave her a quick hug and told her to have a great day, and she skipped happily away.  She's come a long way since she clung to my arm and leg and insisted that I stay in line with her until her teacher came to collect her class.  I felt a little melancholy watching her go.

Today I sigh and miss my babies just a little bit.  How fast they grow!  What a blessing I have to be part of this wondrous life.

The Curse of the Bacon

We had a date.  We were going to a jazz concert at the local university.  "He would be home about dinnertime, and then his folks would come by and pick us up.  A good old double-date, in the back seat of momma's car.

Earlier in the day, I had been at MegaMall, cruising through the aisles with the twins.  Somewhere between new socks and and cat food, we came across the sale rack.  I'm a sucker.  I stopped for a brief moment (because I never have more than a brief moment when the twins are around) to peruse.  For something for me.  There usually isn't anything there that anyone would want.  If it was wanted, someone would have already purchased it, taken it home, and loved it, right?  But I found it.  A new shirt.  My mother would have called it a blouse.  It was woven, but as soft as your favorite old t shirt.  Fitted and flowy in all the right places, and the perfect shade of green.  I don't buy green very often because most of the time it is either a yellowy-neon green, or too olive.  I can't wear either of those trendy colors.  But this time it was exactly the same hue as my eyes, and I was delighted.  And on sale!

I snatched up the shirt and hurried through the checkout.  The faster we can ring up our purchases, the fewer checkout candy temptations we have, you know.

I put it on as soon as I got home and checked the fit in the mirror.  Yes, I know, you are supposed to check the fit before you buy it.  That's why they have dressing rooms in the stores.  But the twins and me and dressing rooms don't mix.  It would be bad.  But the fit was perfect.  I loved it!  I pulled off the stickers and cut of the tags, and rushed in to make dinner so I wouldn't be late for our date.

While the veggies were defrosting I dashed into the bathroom to put on some makeup.  While the sauce was simmering I did my hair (but not over the sauce.  That would leave long hairs in the sauce.  Ew.).  I slid a dab of bacon grease in the frying pan to saute the onions.

And then it happened.  The bacon grease popped and spit globules of hot grease all over my new shirt.  My new shirt!  More than 20 dark spotches appeared across the front of the perfectly green fabric.  I settled the stove and rushed to the bedroom to take it off.  I looked up the best internet remedies for removing grease from fabric.

I spread the whimpering shirt on the clean counter (maybe it was me whimpering) and coated it with corn starch, to soak up the grease.  I carefully blotted with paper towels and shook off the extra.  I rinsed the shirt and smeared shampoo all over the front.  I wrapped the now-entirely-wet shirt in a plastic bag to soak while we went to the concert.

In the morning, I continued my ministrations.  Presoak, wash in the hottest water possible, line dry.  After the process, I anxiously unfolded the shirt - and the dots are still there.  Mocking me.  Bad words.

I should have bought two shirts at the sale.

And I should wear my apron while cooking.

When I'm 70

I was cleaning up my room yesterday.  That may not seem like a big deal, but it has been a mess ever since we moved.  There are just too many things that don't really have a home, so they end up in our bedroom.  Or things that need to be kept out of the way of small children.  They end up in our room.  Papers and bills and papers that need to be kept would usually go in an office, but we haven't had one.  The file cabinet is in the storage garage.  In our room.  My favorite books?  In our room since I don't have any bookshelves.  Christmas presents waiting to be wrapped?  Leftover Halloween candy? Things that need to be returned?  Electrical cords?  Family pictures that haven't been hung?  All in our room.  It's been a disaster.

I decided that if I kept waiting for... what am I waiting for to be able to clean my room?  A personal organizer, a free week, or a bunch of money maybe.  I can tackle a big job in small chunks - I've done it before.  So I decided to do three little chunks: clear off the dresser, clear off the cedar chest, and hang a few pictures.  I need to feel like I sleep in a little sanctuary rather than in a storage unit.

Nope, no before and after pictures.  I think all of the pictures are before pictures, and I don't think I will ever get to the after stage.  But if you want to picture two feet of boxes and clothes piled on the cedar chest and the whole dresser covered several items deep, you'll get the idea.  It took a while.  Of course, it was much more involved than I thought it would be.  It always is.

Angel came to watch as I was finishing the cedar chest.  I put a few things in to store (a few baby girl outfits that I wore which had been hanging out in my mother's cedar chest, a baby quilt I got 21 years ago, a pair of little boy pants I made when my first started kindergarten, and some lovely pillow cases my grandmother had embroidered) and pulled out a small white tablecloth.  I spread the tablecloth over the worn fabric on the lid of my cedar chest.  Angel sighed.  "It is so pretty!  I think we should have a picnic here!"

When I reminded her that we only eat in the kitchen (she is not the tidiest of eaters), she paused for a moment before blurting out, "When I am 70 I will eat here, because you can eat anywhere you want when you are 70!"  Hmmm.  My dad is 70.  He eats in his bedroom or the living room sometimes.

 Maybe I'd better be making plans for where I will eat when I am 70, too.

Me, the Washing Machine

I have some clothes that were not getting clean, so I decided to hand-wash them.  I've been bad-mouthing my mother's washing machine and giving it bad looks.  Maybe good, old-fashioned elbow grease could do the trick where modern water-saving appliances were failing.  In lieu of a washboard, I just swished the clothes, and rubbed the stubborn spots between my knuckles.  I was right.  I was able to scrub them clean.

I also scrubbed all the skin off my knuckles.  My fingers have been hurting like I had bad burns on them for about a week.

Today, I'm grateful for the washing machine.  And maybe I ought to see about finding a washboard or a river.

10 Easy Steps to a Clean Pantry

This was my pantry the other day - after I had declared war on it and had already worked on it for a while.  The doors were hard to open, everything was crazily stuffed in, the chaos on the floor was nearly knee-high, and I could never find anything.  As an organized person, I made an followed a plan.  It will be easy!  Remove, clean, toss, decide, stack, corral, purchase, label, tidy, photograph!

10 Easy Steps to a Clean Pantry

1. Remove.  Take everything out.  Ignore teenagers who are trying to walk through through the mess and grumbling.  You have to make a bigger mess before you can clean one up.

2. Clean.  Wipe down shelves and doors.  Scrape off old, unknown blobs.  Scrub at grease and oil stains for a while before giving up.  Sweep the floor.  Deodorize a little, if needed.

3. Toss.  Throw out anything obviously gross or rotting.  Put these items in the garbage, underneath something else so they won't be found and returned to the pantry.

4. Decide.  Determine what you want to do with the space.  Is your pantry for food exclusively?  Small appliances?  Long-term storage? Your mother's paper plate collection?  Look at what you have strewn about the floor, and decide how much room you need for what kind of thing.

5. Stack.  Start putting like items together.  Stack cans in neat rows like the supermarket, or load into neato-mosquito can roller thingies.  Line up boxes.  Pile bags into neat areas.

6. Corral.  Get containers to contain small items.  For some reason, I have a bunch of baby shoe boxes.  Oh yeah, my box fetish.  They work great for collecting and sorting spices, seasoning packets, birthday candles, and other little  things that tend to get in the way.

7. Purchase.  Go to Cute Tubs and Baskets R Us or your local amazing mart and get all the adorable containers that you see on Pinterest.  Make sure to know what sizes you need before you go.  Measure the shelves from one corner all the way to the other...   Hey!  What's that box in the back corner there?  I've never seen it before.  Fruit snacks, granola bars, baby doughnuts?  Must be Trent's secret stash.  Looks good, though...

8. Label.  To heck with all the cutsie homemade chevron chalkboard labels.  I'm eating doughnuts!

9. Tidy.  Someone is coming home!  Brush the powdered sugar off your chin!  Stuff all the rest of the goods into the pantry and close the doors!

10. Photograph.  Doesn't that look lovely?  Much better.  I should just always leave the doors closed, and the pantry looks fabulous, dahlink.  Fabulous. 

Paper Products

My dad shuffled into the laundry room while I was in the middle of a project.  I was literally in the middle of a project, sitting on the floor surrounded by this.  And then some.  I don't usually like to use paper ware and such - something about being expensive and filling up landfills and the way my skin cringes when a fork scrapes a paper plate.  Don't even mention a foam plate.  Erk. 

"Dad, did you realize that your wife had a love affair with disposable dinnerware?"  

He chuckled, and asked where I had gotten all of the packages from.  The corner cupboard in the kitchen.  The shelves near her desk.  The storage room, and under the cabinet in the laundry room.  

He nodded.  "But did you get the big box on the top shelf of the pantry?"  Really???

About an hour later, we finally were somewhat more organized.  The utensils were corralled, the napkins were sorted, the cups were stacked.  I breathed a sigh of relief and hauled my stiff legs off the hard floor.  I'm gettin' old.  And then I remembered the big box on the top shelf of the pantry.  Argh (it's talk like a pirate day, after all).

I'll get to that another day.  For now, let the zombie apocalypse come - we're prepared!  We'll throw paper plates at them.  Argh.