cleanliness is next to blogliness.

I have spent the last hour or more scouring the deep recesses of our kitchen. I set out to conquer the little dust-and-food-particle colonies that breed behind the picture frames, decorative china, and underneath the kitchen appliances, and I have been successful in my pursuits. The counters are blindingly resplendent in their spotless glory. I am so proud.
There are, however, observations I have made regarding the ins and outs of kitching-conquering. The little quirks and the overwhelming processes were, in true Annie's-mental-narrator fashion, being turned over and over in my head while I scoured. So, out of my faithful love for whoever may be reading this, I shall explore some of my mind murmurings and meanderings, as I am often wont to do.

First, I have come to be acutely aware of how much I want to make my family disappear entirely when I am in deep, indomitable pursuit of cleanliness. I'll be scrubbing and purging and scourging the crumb colonies when some unsuspecting relation of mine will enter the room and go rummaging about in the paper piles I have neatly banished to the edges of the countertops. What nerve. Depending on which member of the family it is, and what they're rummaging for, sometimes a quick, fiery glance can ward them off. More often than this, however, they either do not notice or choose to ignore the fact that I'm practically growling, trying to protect the cleanliness of the kitchen sanctum. It is a maddening process. I have, however, learned that if I try and employ their services while they're close by, they will usually be less quick to come rummaging again.

Similarly, a shorter thought:
How can a living, breathing human being with any conscious sense of right and wrong walk into a clean kitchen and put a dirty dish on the counter?

I think it's in the bible somewhere.
(try Proverbs 6:16, out of context)

To be fair, the clan members will usually put the detestable filth in the dishwasher, (but here's the killer clause-) if it's empty.
Handwashing a dish is strictly out of the question, obviously.


Moving on.

Maybe just one more kitchen thought, and then something new.

Lastly,
Nickel Creek's Why Should the Fire Die? is top-notch kitchen cleaning soundtrack material. One of my favorite lyrics on the whole CD:
You're shining still, behind the clouds,
saying I won't figure you out.
That might be true, but let me try,
and try, and try, for the rest of my life.

I could write a blog on that alone, my friends. Needless to say, harmonizing with words like those makes defeating dust bunnies all the merrier, and more musical.


Okay. Enough with that.

Things I Have Decided That I Like:

1. Heartbeat Hugs- Being able to hear someone's heart beating when you're hugging them is possibly one of the warmest experiences known to mankind. It falls into the same category as the feeling you get when you walk in from playing in the snow and there's a fire waiting to rejuvenate your limbs. I seriously recommend this kind of embracing. It beats the Baptist Side-Hug by about eighty-nine gold stars.

2. Joshua Radin's Music- He's indie acoustic, with a sweet-soft sounding vocal. If you know me, you know this is a no-brainer. Look him up next time you want to drive alone with the windows down on a beautiful day. Or just, whenever.

3. The Color on the Kitchen Walls- Mom re-painted the whole thing (minus the spot over the fridge. oops.) a week or so back, and I've been gradually warming up to the new hue. I've liked it since the first day or so, but I think we're becoming better friends. For the curious and the color-seekers like me, it's a light green color. Very light. Very clean. Most acceptable.

And that's about all I got.
Actually, for some reason, I could probably keep going. Perhaps there are years of unblogged paragraphs inside of me, pent up from all the time spent pretending like myspace was a reasonable writing outlet.

It's good to be doing it this way again.

Thank you to everybody who left comments.
You make me want to keep writing.
:)


[disclaimers: I love my family. Also, I sometimes exaggerate.]