“Well, if you can’t be happy washing dishes, you’ll never be happy doing anything.”
The morning is quite humid and really still; nothing is moving in the thick air. It’s almost eerie. I’ve been watching the weather, and Earl will here late this afternoon, but he seems to be losing steam as he comes up the coast. The brunt of the storm will on the ocean side, east of us but close to Nantucket. I did a lot of preparation yesterday, but I still need to take down the bird feeders and turn over the chairs. I do need help with the palm tree so my friend Tony will be here later, but everything else is down and protected. The deck looks winter bare.
Yesterday I went and bought a few provisions, my kind of provisions. I bought quesadillas, dip, cheese, crackers and a Milky Way. I’m all set. At one counter, I stood next to an older woman who was laughing as she chose her provisions: a codfish dinner, a piece of summer lemon cake and some clam chowder. She said she wanted to ride out the storm in style.
Yesterday I washed dishes, one of my favorite mindless activities. All of a sudden I remembered our kitchen after dinner and my mother at the sink. The kitchen was quite small. The table was against the wall across from the back door. The sink was in the middle of the kitchen counter not all that far from the table. I used to do my homework at the kitchen table, a quiet place after dinner. The family, except for my mother and me, was in the living room with the TV. I remember studying to the sound of running water as my mother washed the dinner dishes. I’d sometimes look up from my books and watch her. She’d use a soapy dishrag to wash the dishes then rinse the soap off under the running water. I remember the sound of clinking dishes and silverware as my mother filled the dish strainer. We seldom said a word to one another, lost as were in each of our tasks. I do remember my mother standing there, but I remember the sounds most of all.
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September 3, 2010 at 11:30 am
Hi Kat,
My brother and I always fought about doing dishes. No one wanted to wipe because that meant you were last out of the pantry. My mother would not allow the dishes to air dry so it was a daily whining session over who did what last. She finally gave up having us do the dishes. I think she discovered that doing them herself allowed her a measure of quiet time while we were all in the living room watching tv or upstairs doing homework.
I’m on my way out to pick up my hurricane provisions now. Mystic Chips and cottage cheese. Fat free of course. 😉 Diet soda and maybe some cheap jelly beans. The houseplants are outside in a sheltered place so I don’t have to worry about them. My Kindle has a bunch of new books on it so I’m good to go. May Earl treats us gently.
September 4, 2010 at 8:32 am
Caryn,
For some reason we were spared the chore as my mother always aired dried. Later she had my my two sisters dry, and they whined and complained that my brother and I never had to do chores.
I love your provision list!
September 3, 2010 at 3:44 pm
Go Caryn. We had what I called an assembly line. Two sisters and one dude (me). E would wash, J would rinse, I would dry. Mom did the clean up on the range/oven; dining table; all the surface countertops. The easy stuff. We probably broke more dishes learning how to sling them in the air than was worth us doing the dishes. Looking back, I would have fired all three of us.
September 4, 2010 at 8:33 am
Z&Me,
My mother, bless her, did just about everything. I didn’t even have to make my bed. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t ever going to ask and put the suggestion into her head.
September 4, 2010 at 4:07 am
washing dishes was a rite of passage in our house as well. over the years i do believe i came to enjoy that time as well, nowadays pots and pans and wine glasses are about all that gets hand washed.
perhaps people would spend less on therapy, if they got rid of their automatic dishwashers.
xoxoxoxooxox
September 4, 2010 at 8:34 am
splendid,
I wash all the glasses and cups I use, all two or three of them, every night. I use the dishwasher once a week and wash odd things like glass lanterns and stuff. It’s just to keep the hoses pliable on the dishwasher.
September 4, 2010 at 8:31 am
I always used to volunteer to wash the christmas dinner; it was a daunting task for the rest of the family, who would thankfully slump in front of the tv and leave me to it. I would turn on Radio Four for the evening play, which would always be some sublime adaptation: Boswell’s life of Johnson; The Canterville Ghost; and of course A Christmas Carol—are ones that have stayed in the memory. My body would be performing the robot tasks, amid the scraps and suds, while my mind would take flight, as if blown aloft by the sonorous voices of the actors. And the end result of that Cinderella alchemy would be sparkling clean pots pans and dishes, and gleaming ranks of cutlery. It is a shame that the dishwasher came along and spoiledit all.
September 4, 2010 at 8:35 am
Jim,
I always washed both Thanksgiving and Christmas for my mother. I figured she did all the cooking, and now it was her turn to rest. I never minded and would lose myself in the task thinking grand thoughts.
September 4, 2010 at 8:33 am
Oops that should have been: ‘wash the christmas dinner dishes’!
September 4, 2010 at 8:36 am
Jim,
I actually read it as dishes, didn’t notice the dinner.
September 5, 2010 at 4:17 pm
I love your post and remember some of the same sorts of things about doing dishes when I was a kid. I enjoyed the companionship and much that was purposeful was discussed during the time we washed dishes.
When the kid in me passed away into an adult, I started to really hate doing dishes. And, if it’s okay I think I’ll continue hating it until I become amused about hating it.
September 6, 2010 at 11:10 am
Hazrat,
I can still see in my mind’s eye my mother at the sink. It is as if I was etching the memory so I could recall it and stay connected through time with my mother.
I never liked doing dishes, but I don’t mind it now.
Please do continue to hate doing dishes. Chores sometimes seem interminable.