Counter Space

I got a KitchenAid stand mixer and a Magic Bullet for Christmas. For real, people, I'm going nuts. The only question is... WHERE AM I GOING TO PUT THEM!?!?

I need a bigger kitchen.

This Is Why I Love Christmas

Tonight was the Extended Family Christmas Party, and it was rowdy. I think it was the alcohol. Not an excessive amount, but a glass of wine for most of my family members definitely takes the edge off. Or maybe it was the family Bingo with a couple dozen envelopes filled with cash for the prizes. And I'm not talking a buck or two. I think every envelope had at least a Jackson in it. (That's a twenty for those of you unfamiliar with your presidential flashcards.) It was intense. Lots of fun but definitely intense.

On the ride home, groaning from that last piece of German chocolate cake and a few too many bites of crab dip, I thought about my family. Sure, we've had problems; every family does. But tonight, I realized how much I really like them. They're sweet people, and they're mine. My grandpa said it best: "I'm just glad you're my family."

Agreed.

And the four Bingo envelopes didn't hurt anything either...

Words from Indigo

I take myself way too seriously. My mom is probably chuckling about that revelation (since she's been saying the same thing for years), but it's true. Sigh. I take myself too seriously.

I make lists about everything. I make lists about what I should make lists about. I document how well I did on sticking with my list and berate myself if I didn't completely follow through. Everything is quantified and justified and rationalized. Then the guilt starts.

In all honesty, it's not terribly calming to live life where you experience some measure of guilt everyday from self-inflicted tasks and self-inflicted consequences. It's pretty exhausting actually. I'm tired of being the drill sergeant to myself... and yelling in my own face has proven to be quite difficult. I've lived my whole life that way, and it's a tough habit to break. I don't leave myself any room to fail. And anything close to not doing what I arbitrarily intended equals failure. But there's no real reason for it. None.

The one place where I seem to allow myself freedom to fail is in my kitchen. When I cook, I can't go wrong. Sure, I make food that doesn't taste as good as I had hoped, but I don't beat myself up over it. I laugh, eat it anyway, and think about the next thing I get to cook. Why do I give myself such freedom with food? I don't experience that anywhere else, and that's the feeling I want to transcend my life and everything in it.

The irony here is that by writing these words, I'm making a serious situation out of taking myself too seriously. Can't I just move on from a problem without documentation? Ask the twenty-seven journals I have in various drawers around my house; right now, their answer is a clear no.

The best thing you'd ever done for me/Is to help me take my life less seriously/
It's only life after all
-Closer to Fine, Indigo Girls

Dirty Dishes

I just taught three people to make pizza. It was a lot of fun... and made a lot of mess. I wish I had taken a picture, but I don't think to capture images until about three hours later. But trust me, there were lots of dishes. Pots, pans, plates, cutting boards, pizza paddles, mixing bowls... it seemed that half of the merchandise at Sur Le Table was on my counters.

I've cleaned my kitchen so many times; my mom and sister often laugh at the fact that I'm either cooking or cleaning up what I recently cooked every time they call me. My dirty kitchen doesn't really scare me. But today was different; this kitchen very much scared me. I wandered aimlessly, circling my island several times with no real purpose. I was moving just to feel like I was doing something, and that strategy doesn't accomplish much. I'd throw away a crumpled napkin but ignore the three right next to it. I'd rinse a dish and put it in a dishwasher that was full of clean dishes. I'd try and wipe down a counter that still had dirty plates on it. I'd put food back in the refrigerator... one item at a time. I seriously think I opened the door to the fridge a dozen times in a ninety second span.

My life was once like that. I had so much clutter and so many dirty dishes in my life, and I had no idea where to start. Which emotions do I take care of first? What wounds do I tend to before others? What relationships need to be put on the shelf and which ones should stay out for everyday use? That's a bad metaphor, but you get the idea (hopefully). I was trying to clean my kitchen on my own, but instead I just wandered, always moving and doing in the hopes that movement gave the illusion of progress.

I managed to get focused on my real kitchen but still didn't want to deal with it. Then my sweet husband came over to the sink, took over the cleaning, and sent me to the couch to sit down and read Real Simple. He does things like that. And it got me thinking...

Recently I realized that I can't do anything on my own. Not one thing. My Savior is the only one who can clean up my mess, and the crazy thing is that He wants to. He's like my husband, taking over because He knows that the best thing for me is to just let Him do it. He knows what I need, He knows who I am, and unlike my husband who just stacks the clean dishes on the counter, Jesus knows where everything goes. He's not overwhelmed by my clutter; in fact, He welcomes my weakness because it shows how strong He really is. His weakest point is still better than my strongest, and let's be honest... He doesn't have any weak points. There's no reason not to trust Him with my mess, especially when He's proven over and over and over again that He knows exactly what to do with it.

My kitchen is clean now (thanks, honey), and I'm still enjoying my Real Simple. It's full of Best of '07 lists... it can't get much better. Well, yeah it can. Remembering my Jesus in the context of clean kitchens and Real Simple is definitely better.

My Tree

I put up my Christmas tree last night. Not a lot of fanfare; I did it by myself. The husband and I decided that when we have kids, putting up the tree will be something we do as a family, but right now, let's just get it done. So I did it yesterday. I climbed the attic ladder in socks (not recommended by the way) and prayed with every step that I wouldn't fall to my death. I brought down all of the ornaments and lights and little Santa figurines you put in the guest bathroom and on the mantle. (If I may go back to the lights for a moment, there were a lot of them to bring down... and then I realized we had purchased a fake tree this year... one with lights already on it. Excellent news. I just wish I had remembered that before the treacherous ladder descent.) So I started decorating the tree with these cool ornaments I bought at Target last year (half price after Christmas - score!), and I love them. They're just brightly colored roundish ornaments in different sizes and colors. So cute and simple. I put them all on the tree and then started to pull out the hodgepodge collection of ornaments to add - homemade snowmen, pictures of my nieces framed in colored felt, my grandmother's old but so precious glass globes, the little dancing nutcracker that I loved as a kid and that my mom so graciously gave me when I moved out... so many memories.

But I didn't put any of them on the tree. I know! It's terrible! Isn't that part of the fun of setting up for Christmas? The nostalgia and the memories and visual reminder of what once was? But I didn't put them up. Not one. My tree is the simplest tree - lights, a string of silver beads, and colored balls. Not one wood and glass memory. There's nothing on the tree that's sentimental... unless I count the reminder of the fabulous deal I got on the ornaments. But that doesn't seem to be in the Christmas spirit all that much.

But you know? It's okay that my tree is simple. It's okay that the other ornaments are back up in the attic. (It'd better be okay; I don't want to have to bring them back down and flirt with death again.) It's okay that I put the tree up without my husband. All of that is okay. My tree is simple which reminds me that Christmas is simple. It's about Jesus. I get to remember that my precious Jesus came to earth to save me because He loves me. So simple but so amazing.

I'm keeping Christmas simple this year. And I'm starting with my tree.