Oh Dishwasher, how do I love thee.....

Many of you know that I am a devout gadget and technophobe. I would rather use a pencil than a pen (do pens count as a new fangled invention, or is it just me?) and I still just have one, very old television, which is barely bigger than my computer screen.

Like many creative people that I know, I run from some new things because I just don't understand them. Not because I don't want them in my life, or am unwilling to learn, but because my brain doesn't work that way. Ask me to design a room, or find a solution to almost anything else, and I can do it, but don't ask me to program your widget, or move the red coaxial cable to the black wot-sit, located second from the right. I am embarrassed to say, that these type of words don't even register in my brain; you could tell me seven times what a coaxial cable was, and on the eighth time I couldn't even repeat the word back you. Those who love me, know that I will never learn how to operate their electric can-opener, or remember how to jump start my own car. (Is it the positive to the negative, or the positive to the positive? Do I start the car first, or after I have connected everything. I forget (again).

This doesn't mean that I wash my clothes in a creek, churn my own butter (well, just on special occasions...) and try to control the television channels with a wire hanger. I do know that some inventions are worth their weight in gold, and for some reason that I can't explain, my favorite one ever is the dishwasher.

Which makes absolutely no sense, because I love washing dishes by hand. There is something really comforting about filling up a sink with hot, soapy water, taking your time, and seeing all the dishes come out sparkly and warm; stacked precariously, and waiting to dry. But, when I can tidy up my kitchen in a few minutes, press a button, and have everything be magically clean in an hour, I am the happiest person on the planet.

There are even days when I whisper to my dishwasher. The other night, I had some friends over, and it took three loads of washing to get everything done. Dish after dish went in, and as soon as they were done, I put them away on the shelves. Scalding hot, and lovely and clean. As he hummed away, I scrubbed the larger pots by hand, listening to the sounds of the cycle, and reveling in the warm water gurgling all over the kitchen.

Maybe it is the instant gratification that I enjoy (well, that is not a good thought), or maybe it is the nurturing simplicity of a task that signals the end of a lovely day (I prefer this thought). Who knows what it is, but the other night, I loaded him up, poured in the powder, said "Thank You", and told him that I loved him very much! And, I meant it.

Pink washing machine from Pottery Barn Kids.

Coffee Cup Confessions

At last count, I have 46 coffee cups on my shelf, and, I am the only one who drinks coffee. When I was younger, I began collecting them as souvenirs; an easy way to preserve a memory, and remember the places that I had visited. As I got got older, I traveled less, apparently needed more caffeine, and I started to search for larger cups to begin my morning with.

Even though travel was no longer a priority, I still liked the idea of having lots of different cups. Ever fussy, I decided the new cups had to have meaning - a saying, a symbol, or simply something that made me smile when I reached for it.
I don't know if other people do this or not, but I decide on the cup before I make my coffee; do I want a large cup, so that I can keep my hands warm when it is really cold, a special one that was a gift from a dear friend, or my ugly Frida Kahlo self-portrait mug that makes me happy because she was so talented, but sad to think that she thought so poorly of herself when she looked in the mirror.

They all have a story, and they are all precious in their own way, but they also need somewhere to live.

Years ago, we used to have Mug Trees that sat on our counter. Mugs came in matching sets, and often the tree was made of wood, with little wooden arms sticking out on an angle to hold the handles (I guess that is why they called it a Mug Tree). But, they did take up extra room on your counter, and I always worried that they would tip over if they weren't balanced right. I don't want to think about the careful placement of my mugs when I am putting them away, so I never quite embraced the Tree.

Another thing I have seen, is to find a wall mounted, or ceiling hanging, decorative holder. They are usually made of wrought iron or stainless steel, and it is a nice way to show off a few special mugs, while adding a bit of color to your kitchen wall. Even a pot rack, with those "S" shaped butcher hooks, might look interesting filled with cups and mugs in a lovely large kitchen.

Have to confess though, my favorite of all, is the simple cup hooks with the safety tab. They easily screw into the bottom of a shelf, give you twice the amount of space, and will hold cups of all shapes and sizes safely. (I have been using the same ones for nearly 20 years, and they are less than a dollar each).

I am sure not everyone spends time thinking about their coffee mugs, or confesses to having 46, but however many mugs you may have, and regardless of how you store them, why not enjoy them as a collection of memories instead of just things?