Set Free

Cooking Query

Do any of you own a rice cooker? If so, do you like it? I'm looking for a recommendation.

Late Night Asterisks of Sunday

*The beautiful background music of this late evening blogging session? My dishwasher, working as it should again.

*When Pure Luck suggested a new walking route, I knew it would be longer than the old one, but I went along and kept up the same brisk pace I have achieved the past two days. He said it would be a little longer. Our recently expanded neighborhood route took us about 20 minutes last night, and I was working hard to keep that pace. Tonight we made sure to time the new walk, I kept up a similar pace for 35 minutes! Yay, me! The trick is to have 35 minutes available to take the darn walk.

*I am seriously drinking a lot of water.

*I am embarrassed to admit, however, that the whole time I was preaching about natural thirst and drinking deep at the well, I had the remains of a Coffee Coolatta sitting on the ledge beneath the pulpit.

*My half-grey hair is making me slightly crazy. I predict a sudden change of hairdresser, probably within the next 48 hours.

*#1 Son gets home tomorrow. He'll be here for less than a week, then he's off to the Big Apple to portray Matthew Brady in a play, complete with beard.

*Snowman returned from UCC General Synod this afternoon with a new hero: Bill Moyers.

*The Princess begins Band Camp in the morning. I think it sounds like fun. She thinks I would be welcome to go in her place.

Extreme Makeover Street Edition

A little over a year ago, we received a notice from the city saying our quiet dead-end street was on the list to be made new in all significant ways. City By the Sea comes in and re-does everything under the street, then re-paves. They never got around to us last year, but over the weekend, the No Parking signs appeared taped to our lovely maple trees, and while yesterday was a washout due to rain, early this morning the crews arrived and the work began.

Water, sewer and gas lines will be replaced, so there is a lot of digging ahead.

Part of living an examined, reflective life is doing just this kind of digging and examining and re-laying. I'm watching the Search Committee and other leaders at Main Street Church engage just such a process in this interim time, looking beneath the surface to see what needs addressing. Last night we had a lively discussion about conflict and past difficulties and how they ought or ought not inform the search for a new pastor. There is a difference between knowing what troubled you last year or ten years ago or twenty years ago and being troubled by it now. We need awareness, not stuckness or, worse yet, denial.

Our street, though charming, has been in need of this paving job for quite a few years. When it is all over, it will have been worth the trouble. We'll know where we were and where we have arrived and what had to happen to get us there, too. We won't want to be defined by the the old-fashioned terracotta water pipes that allowed roots to grow through, but we can be informed by them, learning new ways to get the water we need in our homes and not insisting that the old ways were the only ones we could possibly tolerate.

What is happening on my street can reflect the inner landscape, too. Old ways of being need not rule us, need not rule me. Suppose I were to go beyond the digging phase, the one that always seems to interest me most, and actually replace the old with some new materials? Instead of digging and making a stopgap repair, as I have so often done, a repair covered over with hot top? Suppose I actually changed on the inside, as my street will be remade this summer?

Sunday Night Thoughts

It's always a good day when the Domestic Goddess comes to clean the house. I arrived home this afternoon pleased with the morning at church, touched by the little birthday celebration that formed part of our coffee hour (they sang to me! There was cake!), and delighted by the concert in which The Princess sang this afternoon.

Tonight, while Snowman went on what may have been a date (!!!fainting mother alert!!!), The Princess and I picked up sushi and watched a goofy movie. Then we indulged in one of our guilty pleasures, Extreme Home Makeover.

I worked on the sock I am determined to finish. Sam came to sit between us on the couch and kept lifting his paw as if to stop me. A respected dog trainer told me not long ago that he probably ate my knitting last fall to tell me he is jealous of the time it takes away from him. I encouraged him to put his head in my lap and kept cabling the sock.

Really, it was such a good day. I was eager to go and get in my ever-so-comfy bed with its freshly-changed sheets.

The Princess went up ahead of me, hoping to bunk in with me one more time before Pure Luck comes home. "Mom," she cried, "Baby threw up on your bed!!!"

Oh, boy, did she. Right through to the mattress pad, though thankfully not to the mattress.

My dream of sleeping in that freshly-made bed must be postponed. I'll be camping out on Pure Luck's side, sleeping on a folded quilt. Since I'll be away for 12 or 13 hours tomorrow, and I used the last capful of detergent on the mattress pad, the sheets and blanket will have to wait for Tuesday.

I am trying not to let this ruin a lovely day.

Anybody need a cat?

A Short List of Small Pleasures

Here is a short list of small pleasures from this Saturday:

Feeling sore after exercising, not the "I broke myself" kind of sore but the "Oh, do I have muscles there?" kind

The Princess in the outfield at Adorable Little Baseball Field with a group of kids from all over the state, being honored for her work in school, cheering her own name on the scoreboard

Getting warm enough at the game to take off my jacket

Feeling cool enough to put it on again

Hearing the announcement that profanity is prohibited at the game

Slugger the Sea Dog leading the crowd in a rousing rendition of YMCA--way too funny

Seeing a home run, several double plays, lots of players on base, good throwing and a happy crowd (Sea Dogs won, 10-5)

The way the house smells after the Domestic Goddess ministers to us

The sound of my husband's deep voice on the telephone

A little snoozle on the couch

Molly at the dog park, making the rounds of the people and wroo-wooing them

Sam running up the hill to meet me with an empty bag tucked into his collar, for taking care of "bidness," courtesy of clever Snowman at the bottom of the hill

And, last but not least, no sermon to write (lay speaker tomorrow), so I can get to bed early.

Holy Monday?

The morning began with a gift of small creature innards at the foot of my bed, deposited by a purring cat. Blech!

Now I am late to the office as I search for the leak that has more than doubled our water bill for the past few months. All three toilets are getting the blue dye tablet treatment. The nice young man at the Water District suspects the ancient toilet in the unfinished basement, the one no one has used for nine years. Can you tell me why we didn't just turn that thing off?

This morning I was going to finalize my Maundy Thursday service plans and bulletin. Guess that will have to wait.
Sigh.

At Our House This Tuesday

  The Princess in Felted Hat 2 
  Originally uploaded by msongbird.

At our house this Tuesday:

Sam went out into the backyard early in the morning and left a present of the remains of a cotton knit rope toy, not from our collection, provenance undetermined at this time. He later went to the vet for removal of the IV catheter. He feels MUCH better.

The Princess modeled Felted Hat #2 from my winter knitting efforts before leaving for school.

Two plumbers in Carhartt's overalls made it possible for water to run into and out of our kitchen sink, after which I was able to run the dishwasher, thereby making room for all the dishes you see on the counter to be cleaned later.

Much good worship planning for next Sunday took place despite all the domestic distractions.

Puss Puss, our almost 12 year old cat, climbed into the rhododendron outside our front door and came dangerously close to getting stuck in the fork of a branch.

Snowman got a free meningitis vaccine at school, and now his arm hurts.

Pure Luck called from FarFarAway State, where he is not in hiding, and told me that the repairs needed to his car came to a total of positively Volvonic proportions.

And, last but not least, Molly turned 5!!! She celebrated with two Mollyburgers (plain cheeseburgers from McDonald's), while we sang to her. We love our Molly!!!

P.S. I swear this is the year we are having the kitchen cabinets painted. I mean it.

I Don't Like Mondays

1) Carpenter Brother in Law never came back with his snake.

2) Sam Dog is sick, won't eat, dry heaving; I fear he is somehow clogged, too, although we haven't noticed anything missing (as in eaten by him).

3) I'm supposed to go away with my preacher group overnight.

4) That is not going to happen.

5) On the other hand, if I can get a plumber, I can likely be home to meet him.

6) Maybe Monday is a better day off than Friday?

7) This week it will have to be.

My Weekend: Clue Edition

(Beginning at 8 p.m. Saturday)

Songbird at the Garbage Disposal with Leftover Pasta

Pure Luck in Far Away State with Cell Phone

Songbird under the Sink with Bucket

The Father of My Children in the Kitchen with the Pipe Wrench

Songbird in the Bed with The Princess

Songbird out of Bed with Sam Dog

Sam Dog in the Backyard with ... Troubles

Songbird Back in Bed with The Princess

Songbird out of Bed with Sam Dog

Sam Dog in the Backyard with ... Troubles

Songbird in the Car with Sermon

Domestic Goddess in the Bedroom with Dust Cloth

Songbird in the Pulpit with Sermon

Carpenter Brother-in-Law in the Basement with the Snake

Snowman (finally home) on the Sidewalks with Leashes

Songbird on the Sofa with Oscar?

A New Record

In what is a new track record for things breaking down in Pure Luck's absence, my car began to vibrate on the way home from work yesterday. Diagnosis: something to do with a coil and a spark plug and trying to run on four cylinders instead of five.

I could write an essay on this topic, but instead I will say, "Hi, honey! Hope you had a great day! Wishing you well while you are away at work!!!"

Our Morning, Thus Far

4:59 a.m. Molly arrives in my room panting. I wonder if she needs to go outside and go to the top of the stairs. She doesn't follow, but looks at me wild-eyed! I put 2 and 2 together, listen to the wind outside, and conclude THUNDERSTORM on the way. I open the door to Snowman's attic bedroom, her favorite storm den. She won't go up until I turn on the light.

Good morning, Snowman!

5:05 a.m. HUGE RUMBLE OF THUNDER!!!

5:05:03 a.m. The Princess arrives in my bed.

5:50 a.m. Molly rejoins us.

6:09 a.m. Molly rousts us and asks to go back to the attic. As I turn the light on for her again, I hear a suspicious drip. We have a leak by the chimney. It is dripping down behind all the electronic equipment in Snowman's room. We hurry to move it all, if you can call the slow motion actions of a sleepy teenager "hurrying."

6:49 a.m. As I am about to run out in search of the printer paper needed to finish up Snowman's homework assignment, I realize I have mislaid my church keys. In a raucous downpour, drive to the earliest opening drugstore, wondering all the way where I may have left them. I conclude they are locked in my office.

6:58 a.m. Kind clerk opens doors two minutes early.

7:03 a.m. Notice garbage trucks on the way home and realize it's trash day.

7:06 a.m. Paper delivered. Take trash out.

7:08 a.m. I begin searching our kitchen junk drawer, the last place I remember seeing the spare key to my office. I won't need the outside key, since the nursery school director gets to church first, but I am the only one with a key to my study.

7:10 a.m. Still searching. Among the contents of the junk drawer:

AAA batteries
lots of miscellaneous pieces of paper, especially ATM receipts
numerous index cards torn in half for some odd reason
emergency sewing kit (purchased for those times I chaperone The GirlChoir)
package of straight pins (purchased to hem uniform dress for The GirlChoir)
package of needles (Ditto--sense a theme here? No other sewing in my life?)
charger for cell phone
catnip toy in the shape of a padded gingerbread man
pencils galore
ditto Sharpies

7:13 a.m. Give up for now and feed dogs, then cats.

7:18 a.m. Continue searching drawer.

Passports
My childhood vaccination record.
Cute cocktail napkins, somewhat rumpled.
Red plastic spoons left unused after church event
Two unidentifiable keys, possibly from house Pure Luck no longer owns.

7:20 a.m. Eureka! Spare Study Key Found!!!!

7:21 a.m. Horn honks. The Father of My Children has arrived early to pick up Snowman, who is still finishing his poster. Run outside in downpour to explain situation.

7:30 a.m. Give Snowman lunch money and send him off with his dad.

7:31 a.m. The Princess wants to discuss Halloween costume. I just want coffee.

7:45 a.m. CNN anchor wonders if voters are "sick of the Mark Foley story?" I wonder what Republican pollster was clever enough to frame the question this way, putting the idea in people's minds that perhaps the story is old news.

8:00 a.m. Drive The Princess to school, still discussing costume.

8:15 a.m. Blessed quietness and a cup of coffee. Wonder if there is some way to knit the accessories that will turn a pair of leggings and a black shirt into a cat?

Refrigerators R Us

Suppose you've turned off the ice maker and your freezer is still apparently dripping water into your refrigerator? *Then* do you have to buy a new one? Is there a chance that one morning you'll come downstairs and the refrigerator will have turned itself off forever?

(In other words, are my justifications for a new fridge with crushed ice through the door gaining strength? Or a bottom freezer with french doors above?)

In the Meantime

I have a deep and meaningful post in mind, but since we are due at the Middle School BBQ right now, I will simply ask:
What does it mean when a stream of water pours out of the refrigerator?

Company

There is nothing like company to inspire household reorganization.

Later today, Childhood Friend arrives with her family. There will be some serious cleaning in the meantime. (Where did I get all this yarn? Why is it bigger than its storage facililities? And did someone destroy a small forest to generate all the paper in my house? And could the dogs and cats stop shedding for just.one.minute?!?)

Further, in five weeks, I, great visitor of RevGals, will have an overnight RevGal guest. (I'm a little excited. Hold on a minute. SQUEE!!!!) Her visit gives purpose to my longheld plan of making #1 Son's old bedroom, now a junk heap with an elliptical machine in the middle of the room, into a proper guest space.

The kitchen, however, will not be painted by this evening, or even next month. I hope they will love me anyway.

Time to tie my hair back and get moving.

Edited to Add: Does anyone have a solution to my shoe problem? My children and husband come into the house and take off their shoes immediately. The kids have been trained to do this at their dad's house. But at their dad's house they have one pair of shoes. At this house, there are dozens. We end up with a pile of shoes behind the door in the vestibule.  Any suggestions for storage? In our climate, you really don't want the shoes tracking through the house.

The Domestic Goddess

Growing up in a household so fond of things British that Anglophiliac is perhaps too mild a descriptor, thought Anglomaniac sounds wrong somehow, I read a great many shows and saw a great many films about "gentler" times gone by. "Mary Poppins" was my favorite movie. My parents exposed me to "Upstairs, Downstairs" and every other Masterpiece Theatre title of the 1970's.  "The Secret Garden" was among my most beloved books. I knew the meaning of "under house parlormaid."

I was growing up in the South, where most of the help came from people of color. My mother always had help in the house, at least after she had children. Her mother saw to it, sending her an allowance so that she would not need to ask my father for the money. I received the impression that it was acceptable to have someone clean and care for the children as long as it was not apparent to the husband that such help was necessary.

When I had my first house here in City By the Sea, and The Father of My Children was a young lawyer, I found to my amazement that I did not excel at keeping house. Things just seemed to get dirty awfully quickly. Reading a book was so much more interesting, whether with Then Small and Only Son or by myself while he played endlessly with his Fisher Price Little People. Sitting at the piano with him playing nursery songs and singing was vastly preferable to scrubbing a toilet or hauling the vacuum up and down our unfortunately carpeted staircase. When my mother came to visit, she delivered a critique of my housekeeping that stung. I pointed out that she had help when I was little.

In fact, our beloved Catherine came every weekday. She was there when my mother had a luncheon to attend, or a Garden Club meeting or a Bridge Club event. She washed our cloth diapers and hung them to dry. She ironed my father's shirts. She did the dishes. She cooked. She oversaw our playtime in the backyard.

I don't mean to say that my mother was not present, or that she did not know how to make the house look the way she liked it to be. But the fact remains that she had help.

After the fateful and critical visit of November, 1987, my mother eventually offered to provide me with the sort of cleaning allowance her mother had given her. My grandmother had died, and for the first time since she "retired" from social work to take a six week vacation at the beach with my father in 1951, she had a little money of her own. Actually, it was rather a lot of money, but she was deeply uncomfortable spending it. I got some estimates from cleaning services, and she deemed them too high. The cleaning help never happened. (The next year she offered to pay for me to join Weight Watchers instead. Thanks, Mom!)

That's not to say that there hasn't been help over the years: S, M, A1, A2 and H have all cleaned house for me. S came to us during my first year of seminary, when I was also pregnant with The Princess, and I am still grateful to the friend who recommended her. She stopped working when she had a new baby. M, a burned out social worker looking for something else to do, had great energy; I loved to be around her. After my divorce, when my house had been sold, we worked together to clean its emptiness from top to bottom, and somehow a day that should have been very difficult was redeemed by her presence. A1 came to wash the walls in this house, a friend of one of the team of painters employed at the time we were getting it habitable. I loved her. She was on disability after a terrible on-the-job injury to her foot, and after a while it became clear to her that she really couldn't manage cleaning jobs, either. I never let myself become attached to A2 (criticized us for not being tidy enough--um, excuse me, that's why I need help!) or H (nice older gal who didn't like my Kirby or cleaning a third floor bedroom and raised her price too high), but I do know that having help with the domestic side of life has always been good for my mental health. On the other hand, I'm a pastor. I can't afford to pay a cleaning lady more per hour than I make myself.

After I got a raise at the beginning of this year, I began to listen out for possible cleaning ladies, and my friend RevFun delivered! I met G this afternoon. She is everything I am not, and we respect the difference. I told her, "When I was growing up, I used to joke that my dad couldn't do anything practical because he was too busy thinking great thoughts. Imagine my surprise when I turned out to be just like him! I am up here all the time," I said, touching my head, "and it's only on a day like this that I notice the dog hair tumbleweeds in the corner."

G smiled and said, "Not me! I notice everything. That's why I'm so good at what I do." She went on to tell me about working for a family with ten children and her efforts to keep them in good order. She told me that she would clean windows and take books off shelves to dust them.

Fearfully, I asked her fee.

It is affordable.

I believe there really is a Domestic Goddess. And she starts next Monday at 8 a.m.

Early in the Morn

Well, Early in the morn, About the break of day,
I asked the Lord, "Help me find my way.

It's a busy day at Maison Songbird. On this particular morning at least four of us will want the shower first thing.

May I just say that having one college student home for the summer can make it feel like there are ten people here?

I've had trouble sleeping the past few nights and woke unreadily this morning to the sound of my alarm. I began calculating how much time each person would need for the shower. If #2 Son gets in the shower at 7, followed by The Princess at 7:15, then #1 Son at 7:45, and if #1 Son drives The Princess to school on his way to work at 8:30, then I could get in the shower after she leaves and still make my appointment at 9:30. Fortunately, Pure Luck is going out with the dogs and won't need the shower until later in the morning. I just hope by the time we get to the fourth shower, there will be some hot water.

(If a train leaves Chicago at 10 a.m. going 100 miles an hour...)

But for some strange reason, I hear footsteps coming down from the third floor, and it's not yet 6:30. I move blindly into the hall and say, "#2 Son? Is that you?" By now he is down in the kitchen, sticks his head around the corner and says a cheerful "Good morning!"

"Honey, why are you up so early?" I'm wondering if there is a field trip, or an early arrival, about which I am not informed.

"Huh?"

"It's 6:30."

"I thought it was 7:30!!"

I hear a moan from the computer room. It is #1 Son.

"#2 Son, fix your @#$% clock!!!!"

He stumbles back to bed. And so does his brother.

And then I hear Pure Luck getting into the shower. Let me rephrase. I just hope by the time we get to the fifth shower there will be some hot water.

Preparations

Today is a day of preparations.

There is a sermon to finish and practice (outlined and some sections written).

I need to do some shopping for my trip on Monday (because when you are rooming with St. Casserole, you want to look your best).

There is a suggestion in Seasons of the Spirit for creating a gigantic fabric cross in the sanctuary to represent the spreading of the gospel to the four corners of the world (or the four directions, if you're one of those new-agey Christians like me), and that means I need to make a trip to the fabric store. (Probably also to church, since I have quite literally no idea how much yardage I would need.)

I volunteered to buy flowers for the altar tomorrow. I like good flowers on Mother's Day, for reasons of my own.

But friends, it is raining hard enough that branches are falling off the trees, and I am cozy in my jammies at 11:18 a.m. and going outside seems a very poor idea at the moment.

At least I'm doing some pre-trip laundry...

Redecorating

We moved into this house almost 8 years ago. It was an absolute mess. Every surface in the house had to be scrubbed and painted or sanded and re-finished, or in the case of the bathroom, gutted and replaced. I loved the entire project and was able to draw good boundaries about how much to do right then and what we could wait to do later.

The later projects, however, have tended not to be completed. The kitchen has some new cabinets built to match the originals, but two years later they are still waiting to be painted. The garage has a new foundation, but it is also awaiting paint. The bathroom, which was done in a very economical fashion, could use some upgrading and a fresh coat of paint.

Are you sensing a theme?

I gave this blog a new look the other day, but as it turned out the template is buggy, and Typepad recommends trying another while they work on the bugs. It's fun for me, because I love picking out paint!

Do you enjoy redecorating? Paint or paper? Hardwood or carpet? Do-it-yourself or hiring the experts? Tell me all about it in the comments!

Just So You'll Know

...I didn't vanish without a trace, here's a story from Easter Sunday.

My beloved sister-in-law, who we'll call Wonderful because it's true and I can't remember what nickname I used in the past, came to worship with her two children, then came to my house to cook Easter dinner. (She has the skills, I have the big dining room table.) She had many nice things to say about the sermon and the service in general. I was apologizing for the state of certain parts of my house, and she said, "I don't see how anyone could do what you do in making church happen that way, and still do all the cooking and cleaning."

Amen, Wonderful. Amen.

Things to Do

Extended family coming over this afternoon to celebrate #1 Son's birthday, and there is much to do:

Clean bathrooms

Sweep kitchen floor

Vacuum, vacuum, vacuum

Empty dishwasher, load dishwasher, empty dishwasher, etc.

Tidy up kitchen, including piles on kitchen table

(Or, put everything in a bag or box and hide until tomorrow)

Hide evidence that we have just been dealing with head lice

Wrap excellent presents using I don't know what for wrapping paper

Ten minute nap (really, no more than fifteen, I swear)

Try to figure out what broke my cell phone

(Or wait and worry about it tomorrow)

Send boys to grocery store for paper napkins and plates

Order pizza to meet the various dietary needs of 7 adults, 3 teenagers and 4 tweens, some of whom object to tomato sauce and others of whom are vegetarian.

And, last but not least, call Pure Luck every half hour or so for an update on his driving progress. The man is ON HIS WAY HOME!!!!

On This Day in History

It will be remembered that on this day in history:

One dog went to the groomer and looks perfectly beautiful.

The other dog threw up three times, including the contents of the bag of trash the dogs got into last night. He doesn't look so good.

One child brought home a report of good grades. He is sleeping the sleep of the innocent as I type this.

The other child brought home head lice. She won't be able to go to school tomorrow, which means one parent will not be going out-of-town to a two day training that she cannot afford to miss but certainly cannot attend now.

One parent cleaned up the barf and combed out the lice. It was particularly special the third time the dog threw up, because it was on the old futon sofa, which will be travelling to the dump as soon as one parent can get someone to hoist it into the back of her station wagon.

The other parent thankfully answered his phone and went to the drugstore for the chemical shampoo that some people on the Internets swear by and others condemn.

One parent asked the other parent to also buy a pair of scissors, for one parent discovered she had the lice, too.

In a distant state, I feel sure, the step-parent had a moment of dis-ease he could not identify as his wife contemplated cutting her long, fluffy hair.

So far, the hair is uncut. But the combing is excruciating and also imprecise.

Do you suppose there are any professional nitpickers in the Greater City By the Sea area?

I Fall to Pieces

I mentioned the other day that when Pure Luck is away, we always seem to go to pieces. We have technical difficulties, or the dogs get sick. One time I had to put my car in the shop, Sam-then-a-puppy threw up in the loaner, and then the loaner got a flat tire. Not a good scene.

Today #2 Son and I went to the fancy-schmancy health food store to pick up some necessary items. Amy's frozen meals-in-a-bowl are popular when Pure Luck is away. And there was a sale on those banana waffles with the Gorilla on the box. We picked up some yummy things.

When we got home, time was tight. I had to be at a meeting and needed to change my clothes from Dog Park blue jeans to Somewhat Professional-Looking Clergywoman dress with pantyhose. #2 Son began putting things in the freezer. I came downstairs to find him trying to rearrange the overcrowded kitchen appliance. He reached for a bag of frozen corn.

It was open.

And all the little pieces of organic corn fell onto the floor. Except for the ones that landed on top of the refrigerator door, and then into the rubbery seal thing when we opened the door.

We fall to pieces.

"Wasn't Living Here"

It's still Christmas at my house. I got home last night to find the tree looking marvelous. As I brushed past, no needles hit the floor. This must mean it was watered in my absence. Who would think a tree could still look and smell good on January 10th?

When I mention something left undone in my absence, #2 Son says, "Wasn't living here." It's true. He and The Princess were staying at their dad's, just stopping in after school for a couple of hours.

"Wasn't living here."

There are good reasons for leaving the ornaments on the tree. While it was being decorated, Pure Luck and The Princess accidentally bumped into each other and a precious breakable from my childhood was smashed on the floor. We were all very gracious about it, which was some consolation, and there was another one just like it except in color. But he will not take anything off the tree for fear of further breakage.

"Wasn't living here."

The cupboard is pretty bare. #1 Son, who was staying here, ate most of our Progresso Soup for the Apocalypse. This means another trip to Gigantic Store That Makes Me Dizzy is in order. Of course while we are there, I am sure we will find we need another Gigantic Bag of Chocolate Chips, just in case there is a shortage during the Apocalypse.

"Wasn't living here."

The coffee pot still had the dregs of my last pot of coffee. Eww. Repulsive things were floating on the surface. I had to wash it a few times before I could use it again. On the bright side, when I did make a pot of coffee I got to use my spectacular new Krups coffee bean grinder, a yardsale find and gift from St. Casserole. Yay!

"Wasn't living here."

All the newspapers are piled up under an antique chair in the living room. As Manuel would say, "Que?"

"Wasn't living here."

There was more mail to open here than at the office, including mail addressed to every other member of the family. What do you suppose they would do if I hadn't come home?

"Wasn't living here."

It was good to snuggle with my darling husband last night and to wake up next to him this morning, but there is a little ache in my heart for the Gulf Coast and the Casserole family, and there is a little part of me that isn't living here.

Living in the Lull Time

We're having a quiet few days here. The children are sleeping very, very late. The house is a cozy mess, and we have been eating comfort food (mac and cheese from scratch, meat loaf, sugar cookies baked the day after Christmas, coffee cake from scratch) and snuggling up together to watch favorite movies (The Wizard of Oz, a Christmas present from #2 Son, and The Princess Bride, a longtime favorite that I don't ever seem to tire of watching). I seem to be avoiding the inevitable flurry of pre-trip packing that will have to happen tomorrow and keeping calm, sleeping well, just generally recovering from the work of Christmas.

Although I had posted my wish list for books here on the blog, I didn't find much in the way of books under the tree on Christmas morning. Since I had a couple of nice checks from church-related groups, I decided to go book-shopping for myself yesterday. What a treat! It was the best kind of shopping, one in which there is no rush and no pressure, just the enjoyment of choosing between one delight and another. My new books are in the sidebar in a category I am now calling "On the Bedside Table," along with the two left over from before Christmas, since I don't imagine I'll be reading all of them at the same time.

Although he could not find two books that I managed to uncover yesterday in the same store, #1 Son did find a book that I am looking forward to reading, Paul: Follower of Jesus or Founder of Christianity. He was paying attention when I mentioned that this fall, for the first time, I found the Epistles fascinating.

This is a pretty long list of new books, and none of them will be read until #2 Son's sweater is finished. There is half a sleeve, the collar and the seams yet to go. I'm planning to pack a few of these books to take along to Mississippi. I probably won't take any knitting along (yes, I know this is blasphemy), in part to give my arm and shoulder a rest. They are sore from all the holiday knitting.

I suppose I ought to clean the house, but I would rather go out to lunch with Friend and Colleague, whose birthday is today. I would rather finish the sweater, and chat with The Princess and bother my husband as he sits at his computer.

This morning I had a massage.

Living in the lull time feels peaceful and regenerative. I'm grateful to have it this week.

Tune in Tomorrow

Friends, I had hoped to write something that would illuminate or titillate or at least mildly amuse, but I came home to more puppy poopies to clean off the floor of Pure Luck's office, an area already assaulted twice last night by the pungent poo of the overgrown pup we call Sam. And the "bidness" of a 115-pound pooch is no puny process, rather an oversized outcome.

If you really want to know more, visit the Wednesday Whining thread over at Phantom's place.

Tune in tomorrow for reflections on what the world needs now...

Updated to add a plug for Pilgrim/Heretic's Western Civ Survey Quote Quiz, which I could not pass, but enjoyed reading nonetheless.

Sigh

Does anyone know where we put the skinny attachment for our Kirby?

A Mechanical Question

If there was smoke coming out of the clothes dryer, but you turned it off and unplugged it and turned off the breaker, is it safe to go to sleep?

Have You Ever Noticed?

Have you ever noticed that the house never looks dustier or grimier than on a day you aren't feeling well?

I'm laid pretty low today with an unproductive cough and some crap rattling around in the left side of my chest. Every surface around me is covered with clutter. The end table holds Advil, telephones (regular and cell), remote control, adorable circle-of-cats candle holder almost totally covered by letter threatening to charge us for health insurance for #1 Son if I don't file a waiver and a summer camp picture of #2 Son and friends, the insurance card I used to fill out the waiver form online, two subscription cards that fell out of The New Yorker, a sock, a rejected necktie,The Name of the Rose (the only book I managed to finish reading in this reading week given over to lice-related laundry), my darling little knitting scissors, a package of ponytail holders which appears to have exploded, a bottle of Poland Spring Water, end bits of Bernat Cottontots (could yarn have a cuter name?), an empty cup and, of course, the Lice Comb.

The electrical cord to my laptop is also feeling under the weather, or hates me, and keeps falling out of the computer.

Every time I think I've gotten comfortable, I start to cough.

I feel crappy.

At least one of the cats has fleas. I started to cry last night when The Princess asked me, "Mommy, do fleas have wings?" More laundry, and a huntdown of all three cats, ensued. But it's totally my fault for not putting Frontline on them recently.

What's that? Were you asking about my sermon? The one I've been thinking about all week? It's so not written. My only hope is that I had already made some notes earlier in the week. I'm thinking of splitting the OT lesson and just doing the part about Shiprah and Puah, without moving on to Moses. It seems like this would be a good time to make up my mind, doesn't it?

I could catalog the clutter on the coffee table, but that would be procrastinating. Also, I would have to sit up to really see it...

Everyday

When I got married the first time, in 1983, we received about 14 place settings of Minton's Bellemeade, a very beautiful china service. I still have all the dinner plates, salad plates, cups and saucers, bread-and-butter plates and a few serving pieces, too. On a trip to Bermuda, my mother bought for me the beautiful two-handled soup bowls you see pictured here. (These have never been used. What is their purpose? At the moment they are holding stray game pieces. Ssh. I didn't tell you that.) I also inherited from my mother a dozen beautiful old Wedgwood plates with a vine wreath, which we use at Thanksgiving to supplement my supply. And then there is a cupboard full of my great-grandmother's Haviliand Limoges with the mauve chrysanthemums, but I only use the gravy boat, serving dishes and platters at Thanksgiving, never the see-through cups or the other dishes. I'm too afraid of breaking them. Keep reading to see why.

We also received about six place settings of our "everyday" china, Wedgwood's Edme, including some cereal bowls we bought ourselves after the wedding. By the time Pure Luck and I were getting married in 2002, the Edme collection had dwindled to five cups and saucers. The plates of three sizes were long gone. The kids and I had also run through the informal salad plates from Tiffany that were clearly a popular wedding gift in 1983 (themes of herbs and flowers--The Father of My Children and I actually re-gifted one set when we were too poor to buy someone a wedding present! Oh, the shame.) and were subsisting on four place settings of a petitely-sized Blue Willow knock-off from the English store on Route One in Boston, purchased in 1994.

A man was coming to live with us, and it was time to buy man-sized plates. My first mistake: we went shopping together. He told me he didn't like blue plates. He didn't think food looked appetizing on blue. This had never stopped him from eating out of the blue pasta bowls I bought (just a pair) the first time I fixed dinner for him at my house. But because he was there in the store, I had to eschew blue.

We ended up with Pfaltzgraff Cappucino, a set of eight as pictured here.

Ah, Cappucino. How disappointing have you been? Let me count the ways.

You are very, very heavy. I cannot safely lift a stack of your plates.

You are noisy.

You break far too much.

And even the pieces that don't seem to be broken are chipping or developing cracks which inevitably lead to breakage.

The current count: six dinner plates, six salad plates, six mugs and four cereal bowls. At least one dinner plate has a long crack, as does one mug, and there is a chip on one of the bowls (and who always gets it? That would be me.)

I think we need to give in and buy something else. I would love to hear recommendations from anyone who has purchased everyday dinnerware, or whatever it's called these days. Are all patterns so heavy? Is there a brand that resists breakage and chippage and crackage? I laughing suggested melamine, but even the casual Pure Luck said that would be tacky.

All suggestions considered!

Housekeeping Horrors

As a housekeeper, I'm a very good pastor.

First of all, I don't really have enough time to do an adequate job. We tend to scurry around, using a team approach, just before guests come over, or the family is expected for a holiday. For the last year or so I was in seminary and the first year I was working, we had a cleaning lady, but when I realized how much I was spending from the nest egg my parents left me, I let her go. And so for the past year, it's all been on me, because truthfully, the kids and the husband only do so much. Pure Luck unloads the dishwasher every morning (this depends on my being conscious enough to turn it on the night before), and he keeps up the outside of the house and takes out the trash and manages the recycling. But I think I've seen him vacuum once, and that was in his office.

#2 Son is quite good at cleaning, but has to be pressed into service. And he's busy as only an 8th grader can be, with afterschool commitments, homework and many hours a week of clarinet practice. And then there are friends.

The Little Princess--well, you've seen her nickname. Need I say more? She seems to believe that Mary Poppins will soon appear to "tidy up the nursery."

#1 Son is home now. When I ask him for help he tends to do the least you have asked him for, then disappear to the third floor where he "can't hear" me.

So it was with some pleasure that I noticed Sons 1 and 2 doing their own laundry this week. That is a big help!

Or so I thought, until I went down to the basement last night to put my fabulous undies into the delicate cycle and discovered, to my horror, cinnamon-flavored gum adhering to the inside of the washing machine!!! Aargh!!!! I scraped it off, painstakingly. Those boys both have braces; who would be carrying gum in a pocket? It was unchewed, I think, because a cellophane wrapper had, in part, survived the wash.

#2 Son pleads "not guilty;" the red gum was already on the machine when he did the last load prior to mine.

Grrr. College Boy is in trouble! Now if he will only wake up and let me get mad at him!

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Good

1. Taking my "day off" off.
2. Being completely prepared for worship.
3. Going out to brunch with #1 Son before he goes back to college.
4. Time today to finish the prayer shawl I've been working on for too long.
5. Molly passed her Therapy Dog test!!!
6. Sam Dog is finally getting over his lameness from a muscle pull last week.
7. Today I get to spend time outside with the dogs!
8. The Council of Ministries told me to take some comp time after Easter.

The Bad

1. Still dizzy and have had trouble finding time to do the exercises I was given.
2. Still have to plan some worship activities for the youth group retreat that starts tomorrow.
3. #2 means I'm not actually taking my "day off" off, just mostly off. Anyone have a song to go with 1 Corinthians 12?
4. #2 also means I'm working on my other "day off." (see comp time)

The Ugly

1. Something in my car smells just awful.
2. I haven't done laundry for about three days, which means my bedroom floor is no longer a floor as things pile up on it.
3. I miss Pure Luck so much that I would actually give anything just to play Scrabble with him...
4. Not only does it turn out he's likely to be gone six weeks instead of four, but he has also been told there's a possibility there will be no days off on this job, which means there's no point going to see him when I take my comp time. 7 12-hour night shifts a week means lots of overtime, but no, er, well, let's just say no Scrabble time.

Just One Wish

Okay, I'm not really a shallow person, and I don't think I'm too lofty for everyday/menial tasks, but if I could have one wish it would be this:

A Self-Cleaning Bathroom

I wish I could say I find pleasure in wiping the baseboards and the toilet (but really, I share my bathroom with two guys, so you would know better anyway). I just couldn't help thinking, "Wouldn't it be awesome if I could close the door, set the dial to clean, and just walk away? All it would take is some sort of spray system and a drain in the floor. Doesn't that sound feasible? And desirable? Sort of like a car wash.

Once I read that the Duchess of Windsor had servants who changed her sheets every morning, and then changed them again after she took her nap.

Time to get the sheets in the washer.

Thought for the Day

I'm sitting at the kitchen table, which is covered with newspapers, magazines, a stationery box, several of Lucy's books, one of mine, a stuffed poodle in a pocketbook (not mine), a tiny stuffed lamb bearing the marks of having been mouthed by Doggie Molly, some mail I should probably read, an empty box of tissues, a plastic bag full of apples casually tossed into the fruitbowl, a three-quarters eaten bowl of oatmeal, a half-drunk cup of coffee, a nearly finished glass of milk, an empty juice glass and a plate that used to hold toast. I suppose I could be clearing the table, and really I should be at the office, but the Little Princess is having a bout of G-I trouble and we are waiting to hear from the Pediatric Gastroenterologist about having a prescription filled.

Meanwhile, down at the church, the furnace isn't working. I sigh. And I sigh again. It's one of those days I wish I did live in the parsonage, right across the driveway.

A question for reflection: is it any wonder that I feel eager to get to work when everyone there appreciates what I do and some of the people actually clean up after themselves?