My Questionable Cleaning Style

Kitchen Horror!

My lovely Motel 6 bedroom

I have made a hideous mess of my kitchen while elevating our bedroom to "cleanest ever" status.  
If you are asking yourself what a cake dish and two punch bowls were doing in the bedroom in the first place, you don't know me well.

Last week four of my all-time favorite friends came to visit and the first couple arrived six hours before I expected them.  The sheets were in the dryer and I was at the tail-end of my weekly kombucha bottling session so the kitchen was a wreck, but other than that things weren't as gruesome as they could have been. These were "self-cleaning" guests and after a week of fun - including Indian cooking lessons - they departed, leaving the house cleaner than they found it.  I must mention that the guys prepared all the meals and cleaned up afterward too. I swear, I could soooo love communal living!

Learning in Santhoshi's Kitchen.  Yum.

Guess which guest chef is left-handed?

Maybe depression at their departure inspired the current cleaning binge?

Yesterday I ripped everything out of all the closets, cabinets and drawers of the master bath and bedroom and took everything that didn't belong to the kitchen. It took all day but I knew Jerry was going to work late so I had extra time to get everything straightened back up.  What I forgot to factor in was that Kate was coming over.

"Oh my God, what happened here?" was her entry line.  Things only deteriorated from there.  Before the evening was over, I had emptied drawers and shelves in the kitchen too.  When Jerry got home, he didn't even comment.  He's used to these upheavals and knows that they usually abate on the third day.  It also helped that he could see that the boudoir was Holiday Inn clean.  

Vanilla in its infancy

Today I got up to face the explosion in the kitchen and ended up arranging my spices which led directly to infusing vodka with vanilla beans.  When I was done with that, I whipped up a batch of my homemade deodorant and made laundry soap - all in a kitchen that would have caused social services to remove my child from the home had they had occasion to visit.   (She's twenty-six.  I wonder where they would place her?)  Then, instead of picking it all up, I decided to write this blog.

I am currently taking an online course called:  Focus and Concentration.  I wonder if they have a money-back guarantee?  

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Choosing Glasses

Two years ago, Jerry made a major faux pas when he went to get an eye exam and came home with new (unapproved) glasses. Glasses are a fashion statement that demand careful consideration. Just grabbing a pair and buying them without (my) scrutiny is such a ….guy thing.

Over time I got used to them but apparently Jer felt the sting of censure because last Monday morning he called me from work. He appeared to be inviting me to lunch but he had an ulterior motive. He slid in a plea for me to help him choose a suitable pair of glasses, since we would be out anyway.

We arrived at the optical side of the eye doctor's practice at 11:30. Jer commenced trying on frames. A rep was standing off to the side and I asked him what frames were “in” in Europe. (This matters because European eyewear arrives in the US a couple of seasons later. If you don't mind looking like a dweeb for a few months, you will be totally stylin' for the rest of the time you wear your glasses.)

No.

Nyeh.

Harrison Ford?

Jerry modeled frame after frame after frame but neither of us could make a definitive decision. The rep even chose a few pairs for Jer to try on. Neither of us liked his choices either.

Girlie.

Intense.

Mobster.

Colorful.

Finally we winnowed down the selections. We took pictures of the top contenders and sent them to our daughter Kate for her opinion. Then, for fun, Jer began to try on sunglasses:

Sophia Loren?

Retro

About now the technician began giving us her input and I had this feeling that the selection process had dragged on too long and maybe we should leave so she could close for lunch.  

The decision was difficult but finally the group achieved consensus, the glasses were ordered and we went on our merry way.


Three days later, we were sitting together at dinner when Kate said, “Are those your new glasses, Dad? I like them.”

I looked up. I agreed. The temples had this interesting shape and were made of dark brushed metal. Very classy. “Me too,” I said. “Great choice.”

Jerry said, “No. These are still my old ones. I pick up the new pair tomorrow.”

My husband always has been on the cutting edge of fashion. It took me two years this time, but I finally caught up!

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