they were perfect little travelers when they were little – my children – seasoned roadtrippers happy-as-clams as long as there were snacks.
not unlike the kiddos, we simply cannot get from point a to point b without snacks. roadtrips are synonymous with non-stop grazing, all bets off, things we don’t usually eat at home. though i’d like to say it’s all about trail mix and flax seed bars, the reality is that twizzlers and munchos and peanut m&ms sometimes make their way into the bags easily accessible from the front seat. carrots and grapes and cut-up apples and water bottles are in the cooler. and coffee. there’s always coffee. hydroflasks filled at home followed by cardboard starbucks cups of the boldest pour. back in the non-gluten-free days there would be those amazing lemon loaf slices too – the ones with the slightest schmear of frosting. and we’d bring along schmearless plain panera bagels, just to chew on. yes, yes, we know how to rock the highways.
lately, we’ve tried to be more – conscious – of our choices, tried to eat healthy snacks – even in the car – more kind bars, less pringles, more gf granola bites, fewer hostess cupcakes.
but then there’s david. trying to be all healthy-like, waxing poetic about the glorious bags and coolers full of nutritious, wholesome foods, robustly clapping at our roadtrip fare.
he’s all-in, a clean-snacks, upbeat good-food-eater until…that toddler-award-winning-tizzy-moment he completely loses it when he realizes that, indeed, we have not included peanut m&ms.
*using an apostrophe in a non-possessive plural really gets my inner-grammar-nerd going, so much research went into whether there is an apostrophe referring to the plural of these candies. since m & m are names and the candy is actually called “m&m’s”, i decided to go with the apostrophe referring to the complete name, but not without cringing at the use of an apostrophe sort of doubling as a plural. ugh. blame my sweet momma. đ
a good self-actualizing refrigerator and freezer will keep things cold and frozen, respectively, and have no further issues. the job is simple.
now, there are fancy fridges and run-of-the-mill fridges…side-by-sides, french-door-bottom-freezer models, freezer-on-top standards, retro fridges, beverage center fridges, deep built-in fridges…but the one thing they have in common is keeping things cold, keeping things frozen. so, leaking water onto the floor is not in the list-of-things-to-do for a fridge/freezer combo that has any self-respect.
which brings me to the last two years of our kitchenaid.
back in 2013 i spent a literal fortune on a stainless steel french-door-bottom freezer refrigerator because suddenly, after merely 24 years, my fridge had failed. there is limited space in our old kitchen where the fridge goes so i had to choose carefully, measuring tape and measurements in hand.
they installed the new shiny fridge and, i have to tell you, i felt fancy. gleaming stainless steel, sunlight reflecting off its french doors, bottom freezer the coolest-invention-ever, i was pretty darn excited, despite the monthly payment to the temporary credit card issued by the local appliance store. classy fridge and all, i moved on in life.
seven years later, this fridge, that i have babied with stainless steel cleaner and soft cloths, began to weep onto the wood floor.
there was no reason for it to weep. on the contrary, i should have been weeping as i watched rust spots accumulate on its no-longer-gleaming doors. stainless steel that is not stainless. when i asked kitchenaid about the rust spots and streaks, they said, “we’re sorry you’re experiencing rust on your stainless steel fridge. we recommend using stainless steel cleaner.” well, hello. that’s the only thing i have used, frequently enough to have to purchase and re-purchase. somehow i am not feeling their remorse or sympathy.
but, back to the water-on-the-floor. the opening credits of the pandemic on the screen of life, we were not anxious to bring in a service rep, so i googled. there was a gigantic sheet of ice under the drawer of the freezer – and this was leaking onto the floor. apparently, this is a common problem. (which begs the question why this is not addressed.) i defrosted the freezer and fridge, cookie sheet catching the icebergs as i rubber-spatula-ed them off of the freezer floor. cleaned everything, dried it all off, stainless-steel cleaned the doors and body for good measure and turned it back on.
and now? i am doing this every four to six weeks. but i have it down to a science. i use this tiny fan that my sweet poppo made, a rube-goldberg special the rpms i could not guess but the pitch of the whir tells me it’s mighty fast. i only thaw the freezer floor – so i only need one larger cooler for the freezer food and i don’t open the fridge. i wipe it all down (there’s no chance for it to get icky these days) and turn it all back on.
yesterday morning…merely nine days since the last great-thaw…we woke to puddles under the fridge, clearly having a meltdown (no pun intended). we are increasing the defrost-the-freezer-frequency and looking up appliance repairmen.
my conversation with kitchenaid was…interesting and very, very long. they promised to send me a part on the 22nd. a couple days ago i checked on this. they told me the information i provided does not match their records. so i am at ground zero again. no irony there. zero. the degrees the freezer is set at.
i just don’t know. it goes without saying they just don’t make things the way they used to.
kitchenaid is leaving my heart cold.
*****
I DIDN’T KNOW from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY Šī¸ 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood
i was heating up black bean burgers for lunch and had taken out the salsa and the avocado and the lime. i took out the white corn tortillas and commented that the tortilla would likely fall apart once the bbburger, the salsa, the avocado and the splash of lime were placed upon it. i asked her if she wanted a fork and a knife. she said – wait for it – “use two tortillas.”
two tortillas.
like seriously?
who knew?
“yep,” she continued, “warm up the tortillas and place it all on top of two, not one. it won’t fall apart.”
though a red and white striped jumper, accompanied by white tights and saddle shoes, was not my favorite outfit, i really loved being a candystriper when i was in high school. the local hospital – huntington hospital – had a training program and then you could choose as many days as you wished to volunteer. there were many options – to help in the coffeeshop, to deliver meals, to offer magazines or books on a cart, to visit with patients. my favorites were the coffeeshop and visiting with patients, but i loved all of the work i was assigned. i learned about origami from one of the patients and spent hours with him making cranes and lightening his spirit. i don’t know what his diagnosis was, but i do know it was very serious and he was only a little older than we were. he needed light and we all tried hard to bring it to him whenever we could.
the coffeeshop was a blast, always filled with patrons. i have this unusually tactile memory of making toasted onion bagels with butter – giant new york bagels – i can even still catch a whiff, mixed with coffee wafting from large pots we continually refilled.
the worst part of the job – as a candystriper – was wearing a hairnet. clearly it was for sanitary reasons, but no sixteen-year-old-girl really wants to scoop all her hair into a net and plaster it against her head. especially not if she has a nordic high forehead – which i did – well, and still do. yup. at the end of our shifts, we would go out into the sunlight and yank off our hairnets, leaving our long hair to blow wild and free.
our front lawn is wearing a hairnet. it kind of made me giggle a little as they laid down the haynet and rolled it out. the dirt and seed under it likely groaned – confined! – but the hay will keep the birds from snacking on the new seed and dan said that the hay will dry and then you can rake up the netting. easy-peasy.
mostly, it is astonishing to look out the front window or drive up to the house and see a flat yard. for the last seven months or so we have had a giant lump in the front yard, a debris pile with cement and rocks and asphalt and chunks of hard rubber and copper fittings and some cast iron – and, i’m guessing, lead – since that is what they were removing – bolts. when grass-trying-to-be-a-yard-again grew on the lump (which was all the way from the house to the street and at least twenty feet across) there was no way to cut it. we quickly became “those people” on the block, with the messiest (and ugliest) yard. david went out with the mower, but that was impossible, so he took trimmers and diligently trimmed the top of the mess. a lower mess is better than a higher mess. but – a mess nonetheless. i’m quite sure that people drove by and pointed. i can’t say i blame them.
they came and excavated the debris lump. it was a big job and they had big scraping machinery and a big dumptruck. it was quite the process. the guy in charge was particular and, thus, particularly annoying to the other workers. but they were a hardworking crew and, a few hours later, drove off with our water line replacement leftovers.
and so now we are primed for new grass. we are watering appropriately and we are conferring with dan, who has the best grass ever. he will guide us into better grasshood. we will tend our new yard carefully as it comes back from its turmoil and wreckage.
and one of these days we will be able to remove its hairnet and verdant grass will blow wild and free.
the color that is most associated with freedom is blue. it represents vigilance, perseverance, justice, prosperity, peace, and patriotism.
and, yes, freedom.
in a horrifyingly regressive turn of events – strategized and intended – the supreme court has diminished the freedom of women in this country. we have traveled backwards decades upon decades upon decades. the panting of their victory lap pales in comparison to the collective gasp heard around the world as the united states thwarts its own growth toward equality, toward being a nation held up as an example respecting human freedom-for-all. with no backwards glance of remorse, these justices undermined fifty percent of this sea-to-shining-sea-this-land-is-your-land land.
and so, it is time to climb out of the quiet shells in which we try to peacefully reside and speak up, speak out, shatter the silence. we must hold those responsible who have struck down the rights of women to have autonomy over their bodies. we are on a downhill vector and the rights and freedoms of gender identity, sexual orientation, racial equality run neck and neck in the justice-extremist-whack-a-mole, justices holding hands, religious-patriarchal-supremacist stickytape gluing them together and eroding the separation of church and state they are sworn to uphold. what deity would support such reprehensible action? the color blue – the sky, peace, true justice – weeps. democracy cracking, a fragile idea failing.
“…o say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?…”
robins laid these blue eggs. birds. symbols of freedom. also of hope, renewal, rebirth.
in the sweetest of moments – that i will hold oh-so-close and not entirely share – my beloved daughter guided me into a skincare regimen. she generously shared wisdoms and gifted me with new knowledge, exquisite time together i will forever cherish, and products with detailed instructions on how to use them. her gesture of thoughtfulness…i felt like a girl. so deeply appreciated.
i haven’t spent a lot of time at makeup counters or in stores dedicated to makeup or skincare. you can buy covergirl and maybelline and oil of olay at target or even the grocery store or online and the one mac product i have repeated for years is actually because of my girl as well. every now and then a few new products have found their way into my world – marykay when my sister was a rep, clinique when i wanted to be in solidarity with crunch or when my sis got free samples. mostly, budget and a lack of mentors or social informants on the topic have kept me in the simplest of products. i’m guessing that is obvious, for i do not have the glowing skin or flawless makeup of those who have paid attention; i look in the mirror every day and realize i am, indeed, growing older.
i must have complained a little about that the other day when our daughter was here. her response was to do something about it. every day i count my lucky stars for that time together, for all time together.
the wall of brushes caught my attention at sephora. it looks like a kickline – paused and ready for the downbeat. they were all labeled, so it’s clear you could have quite a plethora of brushes for your face. i just loved the art of it, the black and white and grey with a touch of blue. it looked clean and crisp, things i look for when picking out airbnb cottages in faraway places. at ulta, as i followed my beautiful and knowledgeable girl around, i took photographs of marketing taglines, interesting teasers, product promises. it was absolutely and entirely fun.
the day will shine on in my heart for a long time to come.
though unable to sprint away, the turtle knows when to withdraw. the beautiful wizened face peeks out from under the shell and i don’t want to scare it, though it is likely i already have. the black iris stripe, always parallel to the horizon, the water’s surface, highlights its beautiful eyes, yellow-green peering at me. the marks on its shell tell tales we won’t know. we don’t pick it up or move it; there is no road danger for this turtle as we are in the woods and, by the trail it has left in the grasses, it seems to have a deliberate destination.
these years seem turtling years. pulling in, sheltering from the outside, moving slowly, slowly. in light of all that has transpired through the last couple years, i have not minded turtling. it is renewing strength, re-prioritizing, revitalizing humor, stoking up energy. the pandemic has forced this inwardness; this place has been our shell, reassuring, comforting. even with all the zeal i have for adventure, i love being home. there will be a different time. time will pass and seasons will change and the river keeps flowing. nothing is static. my eyes focus on the horizon.
the turtle paused in its trekking as i took its picture. it looked out from under its own fortress-home and whispered smart-turtle-wisdoms, grinning at me, “just keep going. wherever you go, there you are. you carry home with you. keep your eyes on the horizon. slow, slow.”
deferred maintenance is never really a good thing. but i’m pretty sure that we’ve all had good reasons to defer that-which-ought-be-done, not the least of which is affordability.
over the last few years, we accumulated a list…somewhat prioritized…water always comes to the top, soaking up our attention…but we knew, well, we hoped, we would eventually be able to address the things that homeowners pay for but which have little to no public viewing. even though you want to, it’s not like you are going to drag someone into your basement to see your new copper water pipes from one of the mains to your laundry tub and washer. or the new water main turn-off handle. or the piping under the sink. or the gasket on the pvc that you can see opening the little access door inside the sitting room closet.
mike came to solve the faucet puzzle…we had the faucet and i had repeatedly gone to the ace to purchase supplies for under the sink, new pvc, new fittings. i was in the process of getting a graduated rubber coupler – to go from the pvc under-the-sink to the cast iron pipe coming out of the wall. dan had told us – oh, so long ago – to get that coupler, but the day that i went to the ace, they were out of the proper size. when we couldn’t get the valve handle to budge, we suspected it was time to call someone else in. we do know our limitations…and with plumbing and, especially, electricity, the bar comes fast.
and so, mike entered the picture. even he didn’t have an easy time as he retrofitted all the new plumbing for under-the-sink, but the faucet was gleaming (ok, matte black doesn’t really gleam) when he was done and we couldn’t really believe we could actually remove the bucket from under the sink. remember, it has been a time of water for us. he came back to redo the lines to the laundry and those (copper) pipes did gleam. we can now turn off the water there, should another water emergency arise (knock wood).
according to feng shui, water means emotional turmoil and overflowing water symbolizes being overwhelmed (probably by the water, i’d guess). there is also a warning that leaky faucets âsymbolize prosperity, wealth, and abundance dripping down the drain.â (feng shui quick guide for home and office– carol olmstead) yes, dan was right. we should have gotten a new rubber coupler a ways back.
but it’s a ways later and the cold water line gasket, the storm drains, the fireplace wall, the storm drains on repeat, the bathroom sink, the water main – well, they should have cleansed us for sure – leaving only rainbows and unicorns and bubbles, opportunities for replenishing prosperity, wealth and abundance behind.
it is also said that a leak in a home releases any negative energy. in this house we really love, i cannot think of anything better than this exchange – a release and a gathering of “healthy vital life force energy” (laura cerrano).
whoa. if the simplest sh*t does not interest you, you will not likely want to read this.
we bought a new dish rack.
we also bought a new dish drain.
we are ridiculously happy with our new dish rack and our new dish drain. we dance the dance of thing1 and thing2 in the kitchen and are most pleased with ourselves and our two new purchases (total at target: $21.10).
at a time – still – when pandemic limits in part – at least our – movements and choices, we are choosing to celebrate the littlest things. granted, there are no monumental purchases or excursions TO celebrate, but we are not terribly high-barred in our experience of happy-happy-joy-joy. for two people who have no working dishwasher, a new dish rack and dish drain – sans the yuckiness and the forming-rust of the old ones – make all the difference.
in like story, we painted the main floor bathroom. as you know, we purchased a big jug of vinegar, a big can of zinsser, an expensive can of benjamin moore aura bath and spa, and a can of ben’s slightly-less-expensive eggshell paint. chantilly lace white – “a classic go-to white that elicits images of fresh cotton and pure silk.” and we purchased a new faucet. it’s matte black. now, that – the faucet – i must say – was a big deal. and frankly, that – as is often the story – was what started the whole rigamarole. we re-decorated the bathroom, simply moving things from other parts of the house into the bath and giving ourselves permission to actually use the guest towels we had in the guest bath upstairs, bath towels reserved only for guests. a big deal, we both find ourselves standing and gleefully staring at “the new bathroom”.
and we’re dancing in the kitchen.
yup. it doesn’t take much.
our still life – dish rack with orange cup – signed – is available for purchase, should you want to be reminded of the simple stuff in life. we are choosing to go with christopher wool print and poster pricing – it’s only $40,000 for the original print and we will generously throw in the new dish rack, the new dish drain and, even more generously since it is part of a pair, the vintage metal orange cup we use for espresso. just use our contact form and we’ll call. trust us. we will.
the simple stuff. every day is a day to celebrate it.
it seems so simple. love is love. not a lot to argue with there.
yet, there are those dedicated – no, rabid – about setting down deplorable narrow-minded rules about who-can-love-whom and the rights and freedoms of those whose love is for someone of the same gender.
it seems so simple. love is love.
yet, the crimes of hatred are aimed at the LGBTQ+ community every single day and leaders in government push to strip back protections insuring every single person’s ability to – simply – live in love.
it seems so simple. love is love.
yet, churches – sanctimonious, full of hypocrisy – spew pious words supposedly meant to revere, words canonized, words conveniently warped to fit agenda. we read the other day that a texas preacher declared all gay people should be lined up and shot in the head. where do you even start with that? what jesus would sign off on that kind of revolting hostility?
it seems so simple. love is love.
yet, this story of fighting for the freedom to love-whom-one-wishes-to-love goes on and on and on. and to what end? because power and control and aggression and anger and bigoted, intolerant ignorance rear their ugly heads and are loud, self-righteous, autocratic.
it seems so simple. love is love.
yet, our son – who we love so much, of whom we are proud – must concern himself with the cruelty of people who feel “their way” supersedes any other way, the frightened despicable heterosexuals with checklists of “normal”, and legislation, “religious freedom” and big guns to back them up.
it seems so simple. love is love.
yet, there is pushback against people just living, people just loving. wasn’t that the point – to live, to love others? what other point is there, really? how does the expression go? “and then you die.”
reverse threading 