As I've mentioned before (have I mentioned this before? if not .... it's going to come up a lot), my husband and I purchased a century-old house and are slowly making structural and cosmetic changes. Not the least of these has been a completely brand-new kitchen: new walls, new ceiling, new beam, and beautiful custom cabinetry and counters.
The one thing missing from this brand new paradise of expansive Corian and glazed cherry cabinetry is a dishwasher. And startlingly so, according to the majority of visitors to my humble home.
My father-in-law, with raised eyebrow, dutifully designed the kitchen sans device. He insisted on putting in a bank of drawers the WIDTH of one, just in case "the next owners want to install one" (or, as he probably thinks more likely, I come to my senses at a later date).
My mother exclaimed: "That's the first thing your father and I bought when we got married! A dishwasher!" And countless others have sung the praises of their own devices--claiming the inability to imagine a life without.
So here's the thing: I am not going to try to convince you to tear out your dishwasher. I just feel like explaining my reasons for omitting one.
1. There are four people living in my home. For the most part, that means I only need 4 dishes for each meal. It COULD mean a possible 12 (bread plate, bowl, dinner plate, plus glasses, but using that many dishes for one meal is a rarity). I ALWAYS have enough dishes. I don't have to pull a dirty one out of the dishwasher to wash it just because someone had an extra sandwich at 3pm. I also don't have giant stacks of plates in my cabinets. I prefer extra space to extra dishes.
2. I enjoy washing the dishes. Hot, soapy water, a job well done.
3. I have two children who, when they are tall enough, will take turns washing dishes, to give me a break.
4. I never have to wonder if what I need is clean. My favorite knife. Or mug. Or spatula. Or apple corer. Or soup pot.
5. I have never forgotten to run the thing, empty the thing, put soap in the thing. I never accidentally dump a handful of dirty spoons into a clean silverware basket.
6. No repair issues.
7. There are quite a few things I use on a daily basis that wouldn't go into the dishwasher, even if I had one. Cast iron skillet, Cutco knives, over-sized bowls, popcicle holders, giant cutting board, dutch oven, stoneware baking pan, virtually all of my storage containers (some are probably dishwasher-safe, but with all the PBA stuff, I don't know how much I believe that).
8. I have 18 cubic feet more storage space than you do. Right there, beside the sink, where I do all the prep work.
9. You cannot convince me that the dishwasher actually saves time. I defy you to load and unload the dishwasher any faster than I wash and put away the dishes (allowing for air drying, or if you'd like, we can race and I will dry them as well). My dishes are ready again long before yours.
I will concede: I am probably using more water than you are. The dish drainer sitting by the sink is not particularly beautiful.
I will also admit that the key to making a dishwasher-less life work is that I do my dishes RIGHT AWAY. I have a washtub of hot, soapy water sitting in wait while I prepare dinner, and the majority of cookware is washed before we sit down to eat, dry by the time we're done, and back into the cabinets before I wash the scant plates and serving dishes we just used. Nothing gets crusty or smelly.
I get the impression that most people, when imagining themselves in a dishwasher-less home, see a giant, teetering stack of spaghetti-and-ranch-laden-from-three-days-ago plates, a la Hoarders. And to that I can only say: user error. Don't blame the dishes, blame the procrastinator. Don't do that to yourself, and it won't be overwhelming drudgery. It'll be a few dishes. No big deal.
Hey - it works for me.
the scoop
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
WTH Wednesday: there should be a universal form for ... everything
I just returned from the pediatrician's office, where I paid $15 to have them fill out a medical form for me: you know - the one that says, "yes, my child is healthy and has had all her shots." Similar to the one you need, say, to kennel your chihuahua.

Anyway, aside from the irritation of having to PAY for such a form (ok, I know, I'm paying for the physician's time in filling out the form, or signing it, or at least having the office staff make some unintelligible squiggles and STAMP the doctor's signature and office information at the bottom. Whatever.), I was thinking: Every place that needs a form has a different form. Daycare, camps, school, multiple sports and clubs... and EACH FORM IS DIFFERENT.
They want the same info. From the same professionals/persons and/or parents. And yet the forms are all different: Columns. Check boxes. Y/N. Places for dates (or not). Fronts and backs. Fronts only. Squished-up spaces. Lots of room for notations. 30-yr-old fuzzy Xeroxed type. Colored paper. Crappy paper. Neatly printed and updated-each-year. Archaic fonts. Crisp, new fonts .... etc.

So why isn't there a standard form? If I want to donate my grandmother's full-length mink coat*, I might need to fill out IRS Form 8283 for my tax return next year**. Why aren't there standardized, generic, regular forms for most, if not all, things? With large, boldface titles and numbers at the top?
Think of it! Need to have your family's contact info on file? Just download and print Universal Form 348 and hand it in. (Or better yet, fill it out online and email it to the party who desires it, who STILL might print it for ease of access).
Saved -- Time: Picking up specific forms to be filled out (or having them mailed or emailed by someone), taking certain forms to be filled out by professionals (email them the form, they can fill out at any time, in any format) and returned to the interested parties.
Saved: (potentially) paper, stamps, the mailman's posture.
Saved: Office staffs' spit-laden fingers from leafing through stacks of mystery forms
Saved: Secretaries' dry, fluorescent-lighting-tired, squinting eyes from searching for a form's identifying feature before dealing with it appropriately.
Ok, I think I'm being Pollyanna about all this. What happens when Business A doesn't need most of the information on Form 227? (this is why you get a stack of forms in the clipboard, but only have to fill out the "highlighted sections" ... which, come to think of it, could also be done digitally, but I digress.) What about Big Brother, watching over the intrawebs, waiting to snag your personal info as it goes hurtling through cyberspace?
Still, it seems like a workable idea to me. Am I alone here?
* I do not have a full-length mink coat. To my knowledge, none of my grandmothers ever did, either.
** If I DID have a full-length mink coat, I would not be donating it.

Anyway, aside from the irritation of having to PAY for such a form (ok, I know, I'm paying for the physician's time in filling out the form, or signing it, or at least having the office staff make some unintelligible squiggles and STAMP the doctor's signature and office information at the bottom. Whatever.), I was thinking: Every place that needs a form has a different form. Daycare, camps, school, multiple sports and clubs... and EACH FORM IS DIFFERENT.
They want the same info. From the same professionals/persons and/or parents. And yet the forms are all different: Columns. Check boxes. Y/N. Places for dates (or not). Fronts and backs. Fronts only. Squished-up spaces. Lots of room for notations. 30-yr-old fuzzy Xeroxed type. Colored paper. Crappy paper. Neatly printed and updated-each-year. Archaic fonts. Crisp, new fonts .... etc.

So why isn't there a standard form? If I want to donate my grandmother's full-length mink coat*, I might need to fill out IRS Form 8283 for my tax return next year**. Why aren't there standardized, generic, regular forms for most, if not all, things? With large, boldface titles and numbers at the top?
Think of it! Need to have your family's contact info on file? Just download and print Universal Form 348 and hand it in. (Or better yet, fill it out online and email it to the party who desires it, who STILL might print it for ease of access).
Saved -- Time: Picking up specific forms to be filled out (or having them mailed or emailed by someone), taking certain forms to be filled out by professionals (email them the form, they can fill out at any time, in any format) and returned to the interested parties.
Saved: (potentially) paper, stamps, the mailman's posture.
Saved: Office staffs' spit-laden fingers from leafing through stacks of mystery forms
Saved: Secretaries' dry, fluorescent-lighting-tired, squinting eyes from searching for a form's identifying feature before dealing with it appropriately.
Ok, I think I'm being Pollyanna about all this. What happens when Business A doesn't need most of the information on Form 227? (this is why you get a stack of forms in the clipboard, but only have to fill out the "highlighted sections" ... which, come to think of it, could also be done digitally, but I digress.) What about Big Brother, watching over the intrawebs, waiting to snag your personal info as it goes hurtling through cyberspace?
Still, it seems like a workable idea to me. Am I alone here?
* I do not have a full-length mink coat. To my knowledge, none of my grandmothers ever did, either.
** If I DID have a full-length mink coat, I would not be donating it.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Foto Friday: This Moment
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. -SouleMama
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
WTH Wednesday: Which part of TOXIN sounds good to you?

Ok, I get it. I am reading a women's magazine, therefore, there MAY be an inordinate concern with improving one's personal appearance. And aside from glancing at the fashion trends (really? sweater dresses are BACK??), I tend to avoid the section altogether. But this caught my eye: (Good Housekeeping August 2010)
OUCHLESS INJECTABLES
Skin plumping injections can hurt, so many doctors pre-anesthetize skin or add a numbing agent to the filler. But that means extra shots and wait time -- and a watering-down of the filler. Hence the new plumpers with lidocaine. One example: Juvederm XC (around $600 per syringe), a hyaluronic acid filler recently FDA approved for the treatment of moderate to severe facial wrinkles and folds. [...] (emphasis mine)
-------------------------
Ok, I get it. It's your face; if you want to poke it and fill it and tattoo it and pierce it, you are SOOO allowed. You're a grown up, right? and you EARNED that money, right? (maybe).
But I'm sad. You earned those laugh lines. Those lines around your nose? Your great-grandma had those, too.
What about "botulism" and "neurotoxin" makes one say, "ooh, sign me up!"?
Why do you want to look like Nancy Pelosi? Steve Martin? (who caused me to actually STARTLE when I last saw him on screen).
I know we are an appearance-obsessed culture. I know that is not going to change. I know technology soldiers on, and we make use of what suits us. I know that "sex sells." I also know you can't make the logical leap I'm about to make.... how much cancer research could have been done in place of the strides in botulism? How many mouths could that $600-a-shot treatment feed?
I just sit and wonder, and really, feel sorry for, the person who says, yes, my $600 is well spent smoothing out this wrinkle (temporarily) as opposed to having the porch redone or heading to Maui or painting the church library or having new swings put in at the park or having food show up anonymously on someone's doorstep or having seat warmers installed in my car or having a life-sized canvas made of my dog ...
I just don't get it. Am I alone here?
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Works For Me: Microfiber Cloths

Truly, if you do not have these in your home, you need to step away from the computer, get into your car, and find some.
I thought my mom was crazy. She RAVED about RAGS. When I picked them up, they made my hands feel icky; dried out (especially in the winter) and every hangnail and callous snagged the material. EEW!
I think that might have been college. Or early married life, anyway. Mea culpa, Mama. Microfiber ROCKS.
Other than wash cloths and unpaper towels, I have no other cleaning-up fabric items in my house. And bestill my burgeoning ecofriendly heart, for most every job the only thing you need is a spritz of water. No harsh chemical cleaners, no scratchy sponge full of bacteria. If it's not "clean" to you without some kind of solution, make yourself a spray bottle of equal parts vinegar and water. Add a splash of essential oils if you aren't keen on eau de salad dressing, and you're a cleaning MACHINE. I use a VERY mild solution of dish detergent for the outside grime on my windows ... and that's about it.
Wash, do not use fabric softner. I think it might be recommended that you not toss these in the dryer? but I do anyway. They WILL stick to ... everything, coming out :) but even though I loathe static (cling, electricity, etc) as well, I make an exception for these babies.
These are safe for just about every surface I can think of - computer screens to car tires. But be careful! the little grabbers will NOT let the grit go, and you can easily scratch something else with it if you're not careful. Also note: tiny bits of sawdust/wood will render your cloth unusable for anything but outside scratchy work. Unless you have tweezers and a LOT of time on your hands.
Tip: if you are about to hop into your car to track some down, bypass the "home" section of your chosen superstore. March straight back to automotive. They are cheaper back there, and usually come in larger packs. Plus you can also get the double-thickness type, which are great for soaking up spills. (ShamWow be darned!) (According to Good Housekeeping, one microfiber cloth takes the place of SIXTY ROLLS of paper towels. Awesome!)
My favorites:
Shiny (for glass, mainly, but all types can be used for glass as well)
No Frills Plain Jane Standard (in blue, here)
Moppedy Mop Mop
Super Thick (scroll down to second set)
OH, and a bonus a-ha! use: It might seem weird to dust a carpet, but hear me out. Go along the seam between carpet and baseboard to pick up all the dust and hair and crud your vacuum will never touch!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Good Reads: The Book of Awesome
(subtitle: Snowy Days, Bakery Air, Finding Money in Your Pocket, and Other Simple, Brilliant Things)
Stumbled into this book via the blogosphere. Neil Pasricha is the author of 1000awesomethings.com, and I will let you explore over there for his reasons/motivation for writing the book.
What I love about it (besides the title) is not even within the book's pages; it's the very idea of a book of awesome ... the inspiration to create your own, to form a giant, personal list of "Best Stuffs Ever." It takes the concept of a Gratitude Journal and turns it on its ear just a bit; these are things you might feel silly thanking God for in your evening prayers ("Thank you God, that I got the cereal-to-milk ratio just right this morning" (pg 20) or "Praise the Lord for bubble wrap" (29) or "that I got the Nintendo to work by smacking it" (42)).
Don't get me wrong: some of the observations contained are just plain BRILLIANT: "The sound of scissors cutting construction paper," and the writing hilarious: "The smell of crayons: Crack open a fresh box and get ready for a neuron-splattering head rush. AWESOME!"
It's just when you sit The Book Of Awesome down (hopefully taking a few days to read, rather than trying to ingest it all in one sitting), you start to see things differently (and really, isn't that one of the AWESOME things about books??): you start to see episodes in your life as entries in your own mental (or if you're a nerd, like me, physical) Book of Awesome. The night after reading a few pages, witnessing my husband get out clothes for the following morning, I added this:
Going for the superfluous bum-bump drawer close, even when you were just facing it with both hands outstretched. AWESOME!
Saturday, July 17, 2010
I Love This: Hint Water

Ok, so buying water is not the most ecologically nor fiscally sound thing to do. BUT. If you're out and about, say, at Starbucks, or you're like me and it's sometimes to down plain ol' H2O, give this stuff a try.
I was THRILLED (and ask my peeps; this is NOT an understatement) to find a flavored water with NO ADDED SWEETENER. The company's slogan is "Drink water, not sugar." AMEN! Available in these flavors so far:
Mango-Grapefruit
Cucumber
Raspberry-Lime
Blackberry
Honeydew-Hibiscus
Watermelon
Strawberry-Kiwi
Pomegranite-Tangerine
Mango-Grapefruit
Pear
Lime
The only one I don't dig is Pear ... seems to have a funny aftertaste. But all the others I've tried have been FAB.
Be warned: your tongue will desperately dart about in your sugar-addicted mouth, trying to nab a sugar molecule. It will be disappointed. But hopefully your taste buds will be pleasantly surprised with the subtle, genuine flavor therein. Hear, hear, Hint. Hear, hear.
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