Cleaning everything including the kitchen sink

I don’t know about you, but when I decide to clean something, I go all in.  On Saturday morning, we enjoyed cornmeal and blueberry pancakes from a cookbook Middle Son gave me for Christmas (the recipe needs some tweaking but it has potential.) And as we ate, I kept looking over at the kitchen and thinking about the pent-up post-holiday clutter that never seemed to quite go away no matter how many times I glared at it. Hmmmm.

So as soon as breakfast was over, I set in to clean, and clean I did.  The dishwasher and oven cleaned themselves, but every surface and several cabinets got some one-on-one time with me.  Every countertop was completely cleared, scrubbed and buffed.   The backsplash areas got a damp cloth and stubborn stains got treated to the magic of a Magic Eraser.  The plasticware cabinet was overhauled and the coffee grinder was relegated to the garage.  Every now and again, I might need it…but with the arrival of the Keurig, those times are few and far between these days.  As I wiped off the top of the microwave, a strip of plastic suddenly appeared…it was one of those protective strips they put on in the factory so it doesn’t get scratched from store to installation.  For shame.  This house was finished over six years ago and we’ve lived here for almost two years….and I’m just now finding and removing it? I *do* wipe that ledge atop the microwave occasionally, I swear.

The finishing touch was to scrub and buff the sinks.  I had seen this tip on Pinterest and decided to give it a whirl.  Well, at least the last part.  I used my trusty Barkeeper’s Friend to do the scouring, then did the olive oil buff job.  They are definitely shinier and I hope they’ll stay a little cleaner…for at least a few days. 

Do you clean your sinks?  I hear horror stories of people who don’t…really?  I scour mine at least a couple times a week, and definitely after any raw meat has dripped or dribbled in a basin.

Even clean, the kitchen is visually busy.  My rainbow of Fiestaware isn’t exactly a soothing monochromatic color scheme and I use tools, prep bowls and appliances too often to keep them tucked away in cabinets.

But when it’s clean, it definitely sets a better “tone” for our open floor plan.   And I know the kitchen won’t stay this clean for long.  We work hard, play hard, and eat hard in this area and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  For now, we’ll do what we can to maintain it….and in a few weeks, I’ll be running a sinkful of scalding hot water and doing it all over again.

After the kitchen was finished, Swimmer Girl and I headed out for pedicures and a movie (Les Miserables). Five hours of uninterrupted mother-daughter weekend time = awesome.

I hope your weekend was filled with some activities that gave you a sense of satisfaction, and some opportunities to savor a special moment.  Those are the best weekends, in my book.

Happy Monday,
Terry

P.S. Yes, I’m still keeping up with my daily Bible readings, which is proving extremely convenient since they are posted on Facebook every day.  Last week’s passages blazed a trail through the lives of patriarchs, and I’ve once again pondered our oh-so-human frailties:  deception, favoritism and envy marred the relationships of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and their families.  This week will focus on Joseph…and his ability to see God and good in the trials of life.  We could all learn a lesson or two from his story.

Read Full Post »

The restoration movement has begun

No, I’m not talking church history.  I’m talking about taking back my house, one piece at a time.

When I said I had been giving cooking and cleaning a lick-and-a promise, I wasn’t kidding.  Dinnertime for the past several weeks has been “every man/woman for themselves.”  Grocery store trips were hit-and-run dashes for a few items I knew we needed, and a few frozen fast foods to appease my children  and my conscience. (They won’t starve. There is food.  It’s unhealthy, calorie- and preservative-laden food. But it is sustenance.)

When the groceries came in the door with me, things got shoved in the right location, generally speaking.  Dry foods in the pantry, cold stuff in the fridge or freezer.  But calling it “putting away” everything would be a bit of a stretch.

There was never a convenient time to actually empty the fridge and cull out the fuzzy uglies hiding in the very back recesses.  The pantry went from shallow walk-in to “open the door and hope nothing falls on you” with zero room to get even my petite little foot inside the door.  It was bad.

And if confession is good for the soul, a thorough cleaning after confession is even better.  Earlier this week I finally had enough of the clutter and guilt:  I drained my second cup of morning coffee for courage, ran a sinkful of hot soapy, bleachy water, grabbed a rag and began clearing the vegetable bins, the lunchmeat and cheese drawer, and then worked my way through the rest of the fridge.  I didn’t have as much to throw away as I had feared, and now I know what I have on hand.  I continued my cathartic cleansing in the pantry.  Again, not as much stale, moldy stuff as I feared, but order has been restored there, too.

The restocking trip to the store was pleasantly brief and inexpensive.  I have all the ingredients to actually COOK the items on this week’s menu, so no excuses and no eating out on Sunday.

Restoring some order is definitely restorative.  Now to tackle the dustbunnies under the couch.   I’m guessing they – like their real-life counterparts – tend to procreate at lightning speed.  And then it’ll be out to the garden to bushwhack the jungle and see what can be salvaged.

Happy restoring,
Terry

Read Full Post »

The ever-evolving dilettante

I often joke about my trio of ne’er-do-well fairies: cleaning, cooking and laundry.  The truth is, I struggle with maintaining our home.  I can and do occasionally turn into a cleaning fool, and deep clean and organize to the nth degree.

I know the value of “PEEP”

(You know, “a Place for Everything and Everything in its Place.”)

Our new home makes that a little easier to do, but even with more storage, my shoes wind up covering the floor of my closet (Mr. Official is truly thankful we no longer share a closet, I’m sure.)  The daily mail may wind up in its designated spot, or somewhere on the kitchen table or island.  And it might hang out there for a day or two or ten.

Did you know?  Dust bunnies multiply almost as fast as their real-life counterparts, especially under beds and couches and chairs.  It’s a fact and I have the evidence to prove it.

However, my view of housekeeping has evolved over time.  In the beginning of our marriage, I viewed it as a chore to be delayed as long as possible, then I would dole out just enough of my precious time to get the job done.  Done well, but not happily.  Repeat as needed.

Then I realized that while I didn’t like cleaning the house, I really do like having a clean house.  For some enlightened people, that is the moment when a cleaning service enters their life.  I salute them for making the obvious and wise choice; it’s just not in my nature to go that route.

A few years ago, I decided to dig into what bugs me most about cleaning.  I thought long and hard about which chore(s) I despised most, and why.

Truthfully?  No single chore fills me with dread.  When I thought about it, I can’t say I hate any specific task, and some are pleasant..or at least it’s pleasant to step back and admire the results of some of them.

So why the foot dragging? Mostly, I begrudge giving up time.  Which is why I struggle with FlyLady’s method.  I’m all about cleaning my kitchen daily (and I thank her for the shiny sink routine), but I just can’t bring myself to stop everything and do a prescribed task each morning and evening.  For starters, I am not convinced a bathroom is really clean after 15 minutes of effort.  Nor can I do a whole-house blessing in an hour each week.  I’ve tried, I’ve failed.  More than once.  And once I start, I’m sucked into a half-day cleaning marathon.  I’d rather knock it all out at once, rather than do a bit here and there, and never feel my house is totally clean. Shrug.  I know it works for some – just not for me.

And so I spent most of Saturday catching up on housework I had postponed in favor of spring gardening and maintaining a schedule filled past capacity for the past several weeks.  Mr. Official and Oldest Son made plans to head to my mother-in-law’s for yard work; my inner child would have preferred to tag along and be in or next to her pool for the day, but my dusty baseboards and baskets of unfolded clothes won out.  I vacuumed, cleaned baseboards, mopped, caught up the laundry, dusted, cleaned our bathroom and the guest bath, and gave the kitchen a once-over, then headed to the store for a few groceries.

By the time I was done, I still had some daylight to water the garden and play in the dirt for a bit.  Not as refreshing as a day at the pool, but summer hasn’t officially begun yet, and there will be other days for that.

So if you’re a housework dodger or hater, take heart.  And take stock:  ask yourself what you dislike about housework.  Your honest appraisal may surprise you and start you on an evolutionary path as it did me.

Happy cleaning,
Terry

Read Full Post »

The feathered nest

Housework.

Just think about the word.  It’s two words:  house and work.  For many of us it calls to mind negative words like “routines” and “tasks” and “chores” and “drudgery.”

But then I think of the phrase “feathering the nest.”

It alludes to how birds (and it’s probably the girl birds) who line their nest/home with feathers to create a comfortable and safe environment for their family.

Most of us have been blessed with a home that is warm, safe, dry and comfortable.  We have added furniture for seating, sleeping and eating; appliances to keep and prepare our food, wash and dry our clothes, and generally make our lives easier.  Even the most humble American home or apartment is palatial when compared to how most of the world lives.

If birds are happy just to methodically gather up feathers to cushion their nests, why do we view taking care of our homes as menial work to be avoided as long as possible, and then done under duress?

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve often viewed it that way too.  And some tasks are not particularly pleasant, but if they’re done regularly, they really aren’t that gross or off-putting.

These thoughts went through my mind as I did a fairly deep cleaning of our bedroom and bathroom this week. (I have no idea if I’m in sync with FlyLady or not; I follow her general philosophy and do general surface cleaning regularly, and focus my efforts on various areas of the house in a somewhat regular rotation.)

On this particular day, I stripped the bed down to the mattress, tossed the mattress pad and blanket in the wash, rotated the mattress.  While the laundry was going, I let some bleach work its wonders on the shower grout, cleaned the bathroom and then hopped in the shower to finish wiping it down and wash my hair.  When the bedding was dry, I remade the bed and hung fresh towels.

All-told my efforts took about an hour.  When I was done, the bathroom sinks were shined and the toilet scrubbed (as they are each week); the baseboards were wiped down and all the shower crevices were bright and clean again, and the linens were all changed.  Vacuuming and mopping had been done just a few days prior, so I skipped it.

An hour to “feather my nest.”  How can I view that as drudge work?

Happy cleaning,

Read Full Post »

Home, sweet home

Houses are a bit like us girls – they can use a day of beauty every now and then, ya know?  We can’t take a house to a spa, but we can treat our dwelling to a day of refining and beautifying.

No, this isn’t yet another post about our new house.  We recently offered our old place for lease (read: we stuck a sign in the yard) and were pleasantly surprised by the immediate response (within hours!) from several families interested in renting it.

As I showed the house and eventually made arrangements to lease it to one particular family, I began to look at our old home through the eager and bright eyes of a prospective occupant, rather than the weary eyes of the one who moved out.

The whole-house paint job looks great, but I realized the blinds needed cleaning (they weren’t gnarly gross but they wouldn’t pass anyone’s white glove test.)  Ditto for the windows.  And the floors.  And the bathrooms and kitchen were passable, but I knew if I were moving in, I’d have to spend some time cleaning before I put my own things in the cabinets and drawers.

So this past week, I spent several hours (over the course of several days) deep cleaning and gently buffing and polishing everything to move-in condition.  At long last, the storage towers and hanging rods were installed in the bedroom closets, a new wire shelf/rack was up in the hall closet, the spot where the TV hung in the master bedroom was painted over, the bathrooms were sanitized to operating room condition, and all the floors were mopped and gleaming.  A flipped-over closet switch was righted (up is on, off is down), and the front door lever now operates properly.  It’s the pesky little things you live with when it’s yours, but you wouldn’t wish on anyone else. (And after you do them, you wonder why you didn’t find a few spare minutes to do it months or years ago!)

As I worked, I thought back to our own move-in experiences over the years.  As I reminisced, I thought how nice it would have been to find a few essentials and niceties to welcome us.

So I put myself in their shoes and made sure all the toilet paper holders were full and the bathroom sinks each had a dispenser of hand soap. I wiped out all the bathroom drawers and put a penny (heads-up) in each bathroom (because everyone needs a little luck, right?); changed out the filter on the HVAC system, and left the rest of the three-pack in the laundry room to encourage changes when needed.

New lightbulbs were inserted in all the the sparkly clean light fixtures and ceiling fans, and I tucked a few starter packets of dishwasher detergent under the sink; a scrubbed and bleached almost-new kitchen trashcan and a few trash can liners is at the ready.

On a whim, I snagged an inexpensive plastic  pumpkin and filled it with candy (they are moving in over the weekend and I have a hunch their trick-or-treating will be pre-empted by packing-and-moving.  As a final touch I filled a small basket with some apple-scented dish soap, new sponges and dishrags and a cute Thanksgiving towel to say “Welcome Home!” 

After I finished giving the old place its spa treatment, did I wish we were the ones moving in?  It did look pretty and welcoming.  But I am very content with our new home and I don’t regret any part of our decision to find and move to a different home.

I have very high hopes for the future of the new family moving in.  I wish many blessings and joy on them as they make our old home their new home.

Happy moving in (and on),
 

Read Full Post »

A Bounty of Figs

Thank you, author John Boyne for giving the term “flying fig” – and the lack of concern it measures – some historical context. A few years ago, Boyne included the phrase in a novel about the famous mutiny on the British ship, the Bounty, which occurred back in the late 1700s. I can now tell myself the phrase is historically accurate and not just a euphemism for another phrase that is far less polite.

What does any of that have to do with real figs? Why nothing, of course. But I did have a bounty of them drop into my lap this week.

Despite my canning ambiguity this year, I had been mulling over if there was any way I could snag some fresh figs locally (they’re a rare bird around here) and by chance overheard a friend talking about a tree loaded with figs, ripe for the plucking. As luck would have it, the tree’s owner doesn’t give a fig about getting out in this heat and picking them, so my friend/source is welcome to them. And I’m welcome to what he picks as long as I give him back some preserves, including a jar or two as recompense to the tree’s owner. It’s a sweet deal for everyone.

Yesterday morning I started with this – about 3 quarts of figs, washed and stemmed.

It’s a miracle there were any left after I started nibbling on them.

 After a few hours of cooking down (meanwhile I scrubbed and sanitized a dozen jars) and a few minutes of filling, sealing and a quick dip in a hot water bath, I wound up with this pretty array of jars, plus one in the fridge because I misjudged the number of jars needed:

Fig preserves; they’re like sunshine in a jar.

But the nice neat stack of jars comes at a price.  This is the kitchen after the preserves finished their water bath.  Canning is not difficult, but it does take time and it is messy.  Very, very messy.

How many kettles does it take to can?  All of them.

Is it worth it?  Oh yes.  I’m not much of a jam/jelly/preserve fan, but I am looking forward to using these preserves in some upcoming cakes and cookies.  And I’m hopeful I might get another batch or two of figs.   Maybe in a year or two my fig tree will reward me with some figs.  Assuming it survives transplant shock, poor baby.

Happy preserving,

Read Full Post »

Me versus the pressure washer

It occurred to me yesterday (when our pressure washer nearly knocked me off my feet for the umpteenth time) that 2500 PSI is probably a lot more force than my 5 foot 2-inch frame is really equipped to handle. I have learned to brace myself if I’m on a ladder when I’m power washing – the first time I tried it I nearly launched myself into the hot tub, much to oldest son’s consternation. (Well, at first he was concerned. Then he was merely amused.  My kids are pretty accustomed to my klutzy antics.)

But even though the force can and does push me off-balance with regularity, I refuse to turn over the power washing to anyone else. Power-hungry or simply empowered? Either way I get a lot of satisfaction from successfully wielding the wand and knocking the grime off windows, walls, gutters and concrete. I go easier on decking (after I figured out what that kind of pressure can do if you aren’t careful.)

Something tells me I’d flunk…

And yes, I am aware I run all kinds of risks by power washing in flipflops, but I keep my toes out of the way.  (Don’t ask me how I learned that lesson…I just know, okay?)   I also prefer sunglasses to safety goggles, shorts and tank tops over full length pants and waterproof gloves.  Ear plugs, pshaw.  What fun would it be to power wash if you had to wear all of that?

This year I’ve had double the power washing fun – old house and new house both needed some serious power washing. New house’s deck and guttering along the back are cleaned (and the deck is stained and sealed.) Old house’s windows, siding, gutters and north-side sidewalks are cleaned.

I think that just leaves a little deck work at the old house, and then I might have to put up the power washer, at least until I’m ready to tackle that big wraparound porch on the new place. Trim, rails and concrete to be cleaned – woohoo! Sounds like a fun job for a hot July or August day.

Happy powering!

Read Full Post »