I have never been much of a 'leave-the-tree-up-till-Valentine's-Day' kind of person. Perhaps it is the fact that, for nearly 30 years, we gave a big Christmas party the second Saturday in December--which meant that the tree went up almost immediately after Thanksgiving. By Christmas, we were being stabbed by dried-out needles and had to put ourselves on fire-watch because of the pile of tinder we had stacked our presents under.
In any case, we are usually the first in the neighborhood to drag our tree to the curb, and by New Year's, our house has usually lost all vestiges of holiday decoration. The cookies and candy sometimes linger into the new year, but even they are looking pretty sad. Which puts me today firmly in the box-it-up-and store-it, or clear-it-out mode.
This year, I even added to the tradition by setting myself the Herculean task (and I'm talking Augean stables here) of clearing out the refrigerator. Who knew how many pots and jars of weird ingredients lived there? Salad dressings, dabs of jams and jellies too small for any use, orange marmalade, hoisin sauce..tortillas that predate the cliff dwellings out west. Why do I have 4 packages of bacon--two open and half empty, and two apparently awaiting some bacon orgy of the future? Capers and olives and relishes, cheeses and chili sauce, horseradish of a strange hue, and toothpaste-tubes of basil and garlic and tomato paste. I think it is time for a New Year's resolution to cook more simply, without all these bells and whistles. Time to start from scratch (and I'm not saying this just because a few of these items had expiration dates back in 2010...well, maybe), to move on to my pantry, and maybe even my freezer. I may end up finding the lost city of Cibola there, frozen eternally behind the chopped broccoli. Calling Indiana Jones!
Some people find it sad to put Christmas away for the year, but I see it as a breath of fresh air. Here's my new beginning, my new year...one where I will fix what's wrong and capitalize on what's right in my world. Starting with the refrigerator.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Pre-Christmas
Here I am, at the kitchen counter, before the day's customary chaos sets in. I know I should be making my lists and checking them twice...but I do enjoy having a few minutes of my own, unencumbered by the need for groceries or laundry or de-cluttering or last-minute shopping. Somehow, it will all get done in time--though I might have to shave a few frills and furbelows from my expectations.
On the plus side, JC has somehow found a radio station playing Christmas music that I like, and locked into it on my car radio. This means that I have heard my favorite song not once, but three times in the past two days. (For those of you who might care, it is the Bing Crosby/David Bowie duet of Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth. A totally unlikely combination, both of music and artists, traceable to a bizarre match-up in a Christmas special years ago. Played very infrequently, but I love it.) Additionally, I have baked SOME cookies, even though they are mostly gone already. I have wrapped some presents, and I think most of the ones I have ordered have arrived in a timely fashion. At least the major ones. I have a plentiful supply of tape, paper, and ribbon, though I do need to stock up on batteries this year. Most importantly, if we are thinking positively, I am more or less past the bronchitis that has plagued me since Thanksgiving. There are still a few coughs exploding now and then, but I no longer frighten people in the street. (You know you've been bad when the UPS lady says that you sound better...)
There is no snow in the forecast, and Kay and Paul and the little girls are due tomorrow, whenever they manage to struggle through the traffic and the trip from Rhode Island. The tree and decorations are in place, there is one more Noonday Noel concert today that I have promised to bring food for, I've sent off the January update for the Folger docents for JC, had my lab work done for the month, and am more or less caught up on laundry. Our house (to quote from a recent NCIS episode) still looks like we just finished taping an episode of "Hoarders"--but I can fix that in one of those gaps where I'm waiting for other stuff, like cookies to bake, or bread to rise.
All in all, life is pretty good right now. Christmas is coming, and I'm as ready as I usually am..which is 'not quite, but oh, well...' Merry Christmas!
On the plus side, JC has somehow found a radio station playing Christmas music that I like, and locked into it on my car radio. This means that I have heard my favorite song not once, but three times in the past two days. (For those of you who might care, it is the Bing Crosby/David Bowie duet of Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth. A totally unlikely combination, both of music and artists, traceable to a bizarre match-up in a Christmas special years ago. Played very infrequently, but I love it.) Additionally, I have baked SOME cookies, even though they are mostly gone already. I have wrapped some presents, and I think most of the ones I have ordered have arrived in a timely fashion. At least the major ones. I have a plentiful supply of tape, paper, and ribbon, though I do need to stock up on batteries this year. Most importantly, if we are thinking positively, I am more or less past the bronchitis that has plagued me since Thanksgiving. There are still a few coughs exploding now and then, but I no longer frighten people in the street. (You know you've been bad when the UPS lady says that you sound better...)
There is no snow in the forecast, and Kay and Paul and the little girls are due tomorrow, whenever they manage to struggle through the traffic and the trip from Rhode Island. The tree and decorations are in place, there is one more Noonday Noel concert today that I have promised to bring food for, I've sent off the January update for the Folger docents for JC, had my lab work done for the month, and am more or less caught up on laundry. Our house (to quote from a recent NCIS episode) still looks like we just finished taping an episode of "Hoarders"--but I can fix that in one of those gaps where I'm waiting for other stuff, like cookies to bake, or bread to rise.
All in all, life is pretty good right now. Christmas is coming, and I'm as ready as I usually am..which is 'not quite, but oh, well...' Merry Christmas!
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Help
I enjoy a rare privilege--at least, rare to someone of my background and heritage. I have a cleaning lady. I was raised in a world where one did one's own housework, or outsourced it to unwilling, but easily-dominated children. For twenty years of my life, my job description was short and to the point. I went to school and did whatever that entailed. I dried the dishes after dinner every day. I swept and scrubbed the kitchen floor every day. I cleaned and scrubbed the bathroom once a week. And I kept the room I shared with my sister in order--beds made, floor vacuumed, furniture dusted. I was never overly fond of any of those duties.
When I married, the dishwasher took over the dishes. I was a little casual about the rest, but it did get done--most of the time. Finally, when the girls took over all our spare time, we opted to hire someone to come in every couple weeks to spiff things up, and keep things from deteriorating too badly. For the past ten years or so, that someone has been Sandra.
Sandra is a little lady with tolerable English skills that do not extend to the written word. She arrives every other Friday morning, with a small army of smiling, non-English-speaking young women who very efficiently take over the house and leave it much better than they found it. We get along, for the most part. What we have found, however, is that the ladies have....a quirky sense of humor, perhaps? a desire to show us who's boss, maybe? In any case, they assert themselves in odd ways. It is a rare Friday that I return and do not find some evidence of their tricks. A bed is short-sheeted--not enough to look deliberate, but enough that it needs to be remade. Something will be missing, that won't be truly missed immediately.
Take the soap. One Saturday morning, I stepped into the shower to find that the soap was missing. A new bar, only recently placed in the dish. I looked around, but couldn't see it. Wet and irritated, I dripped my way to the cabinet, unwrapped a new bar, and continued...fuming..back to the shower. After getting dressed, I started looking, to no avail. Not on the counter, not in the trash, not in the cupboard, not in the drawer. Not even in the powder room. Who would steal a bar of Dial soap? Apparently, the ladies. It wasn't until the next week, when I dumped the contents of the laundry hamper into the washer--and heard a 'thunk!'--that I found it. Who would put a bar of soap into the laundry hamper? Yet there it was.
Paper towels! I am firmly of the opinion that Sandra runs a paper towel business out of her car. Each visit, every paper towel in the house would disappear, whether I had a single roll or six available. Poof. I will agree that paper towels are essential in cleaning mirrors, windows, maybe a final swipe for sinks and stoves--but the quantity in which they vanished boggled the mind. I am embarrassed to say that I have taken to storing paper towels in my car, leaving a maximum of two rolls available in the house. Explaining to passengers why I carry 8 rolls of Bounty paper towels is preferable to losing them to the cleaning lady mafia that has apparently cornered the market thereon.
And then, there is placement. I have things arranged in my house--on tables, on mantels, on counters. Not a LOT of things, but some. And I have them arranged in a way that I like: not lined up like soldiers, not arranged by twos in a parade line. Generally centered, generally symmetrical. Until the ladies come. Everything is then arranged in exactly the opposite manner. If something was squared, it's placed on the diagonal; if centered, it's moved to the right or left. If the line was staggered, it's straightened. Furniture, blinds, windowshades, rugs--all just slightly off-kilter. I spend the next few days simply adjusting things.
I have taken to unplugging my computer and printer because the connections were always jiggled to the point of disconnection. My printer never worked, nor my cable TV, nor my router when the ladies had been here. My toaster and coffeemaker were unplugged (usually discovered after an impatient few minutes spent wondering why they were operating so slowly.) My recycling bin held trash, and my trashcan held recycling. The parallel universe in which Sandra and her minions operate obviously has rules that are in conflict with mine. I have tried to explain my issues to her, but Sandra simply smiles and nods and says "Yes, Miss Mary." and no doubt goes home and laughs at how strange I am to quibble about horizontally vs. vertically placed throw rugs. Maybe I am. Maybe in Central America, candles are lined up like soldiers, and sofas are placed off-center, and soap is stored in laundry hampers. Maybe Bounty paper towels are their new currency. Maybe I should change ladies...but who knows what new quirks are out there waiting for me?
When I married, the dishwasher took over the dishes. I was a little casual about the rest, but it did get done--most of the time. Finally, when the girls took over all our spare time, we opted to hire someone to come in every couple weeks to spiff things up, and keep things from deteriorating too badly. For the past ten years or so, that someone has been Sandra.
Sandra is a little lady with tolerable English skills that do not extend to the written word. She arrives every other Friday morning, with a small army of smiling, non-English-speaking young women who very efficiently take over the house and leave it much better than they found it. We get along, for the most part. What we have found, however, is that the ladies have....a quirky sense of humor, perhaps? a desire to show us who's boss, maybe? In any case, they assert themselves in odd ways. It is a rare Friday that I return and do not find some evidence of their tricks. A bed is short-sheeted--not enough to look deliberate, but enough that it needs to be remade. Something will be missing, that won't be truly missed immediately.
Take the soap. One Saturday morning, I stepped into the shower to find that the soap was missing. A new bar, only recently placed in the dish. I looked around, but couldn't see it. Wet and irritated, I dripped my way to the cabinet, unwrapped a new bar, and continued...fuming..back to the shower. After getting dressed, I started looking, to no avail. Not on the counter, not in the trash, not in the cupboard, not in the drawer. Not even in the powder room. Who would steal a bar of Dial soap? Apparently, the ladies. It wasn't until the next week, when I dumped the contents of the laundry hamper into the washer--and heard a 'thunk!'--that I found it. Who would put a bar of soap into the laundry hamper? Yet there it was.
Paper towels! I am firmly of the opinion that Sandra runs a paper towel business out of her car. Each visit, every paper towel in the house would disappear, whether I had a single roll or six available. Poof. I will agree that paper towels are essential in cleaning mirrors, windows, maybe a final swipe for sinks and stoves--but the quantity in which they vanished boggled the mind. I am embarrassed to say that I have taken to storing paper towels in my car, leaving a maximum of two rolls available in the house. Explaining to passengers why I carry 8 rolls of Bounty paper towels is preferable to losing them to the cleaning lady mafia that has apparently cornered the market thereon.
And then, there is placement. I have things arranged in my house--on tables, on mantels, on counters. Not a LOT of things, but some. And I have them arranged in a way that I like: not lined up like soldiers, not arranged by twos in a parade line. Generally centered, generally symmetrical. Until the ladies come. Everything is then arranged in exactly the opposite manner. If something was squared, it's placed on the diagonal; if centered, it's moved to the right or left. If the line was staggered, it's straightened. Furniture, blinds, windowshades, rugs--all just slightly off-kilter. I spend the next few days simply adjusting things.
I have taken to unplugging my computer and printer because the connections were always jiggled to the point of disconnection. My printer never worked, nor my cable TV, nor my router when the ladies had been here. My toaster and coffeemaker were unplugged (usually discovered after an impatient few minutes spent wondering why they were operating so slowly.) My recycling bin held trash, and my trashcan held recycling. The parallel universe in which Sandra and her minions operate obviously has rules that are in conflict with mine. I have tried to explain my issues to her, but Sandra simply smiles and nods and says "Yes, Miss Mary." and no doubt goes home and laughs at how strange I am to quibble about horizontally vs. vertically placed throw rugs. Maybe I am. Maybe in Central America, candles are lined up like soldiers, and sofas are placed off-center, and soap is stored in laundry hampers. Maybe Bounty paper towels are their new currency. Maybe I should change ladies...but who knows what new quirks are out there waiting for me?
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