That was a wonderful remark

The waters were calmer and warmer at the kitchen sink for the rest of the holiday season even though the heat broke during the coldest snap in many years in NC and we hosted seven guests for a few days.

As for the kitchen in which my sink resides, my dear friend informed me that it was larger than the home he lived in for three years as a Peace Corps volunteer in Nepal. I reminded him that my kitchen and dining room are the size of the home that I lived in for my first twenty years of my life. And in that home, I was raised by a natural hostess. Mom spun miracles in her little kitchen. Like a clown car, plate after plate would unload themselves from her little kitchen into the hands of guests. Mom probably spent months of her life preparing wonderful food for big gatherings. The real miracle in this is that she cleaned up after every event without a dishwasher- spending perhaps months of her life with her hands in the kitchen sink. Despite these facts of outstanding hostess pedigree and a large well designed kitchen for entertaining- I am not at ease entertaining a houseful of guests. What I view as chaos in a houseful of people, Mom sensed a calm and warmth.

As seven wildly diverse characters gathered around my Mom's newly refinished dining room table in our new home on New Year's Eve, I too sensed the warmth that fueled Mom's entertaining frenzies. (Perhaps a bit of the warmth came from my husband's now traditional NYE shrimp fradiablo, and a new dish of lobster and brei wrapped in phyllo dough over roasted red peppers and mixed greens). Had we not extended an invitation and pushed our boundaries of comfort, perspective and resolution might not have been gained from a wonderful remark of a guest. Post toast, the name of a corrupt and unseemly character emerged. As soon as it did, my dear friend said- if it was not for this character we would not be together tonight. It is true the catalyst of the joys, the hilarity, the drinks, the comfort and the growth shared by five of the seven at the table over the past eight years was this one difficult force. I consider this a small miracle since one of the people who was with us is a refugee of the famine and genocide of Sudan. How many times in much smaller and less poingant ways in my life has the uncomfortable and the unseemly created rich and fruitful unions? I am certain it is many more instances then I ever bothered to notice. I am going to be on watch for such serendipity this year.

Old things lead to something new

Christmas is so laden with memories, traditions, and should be's that it is often difficult to reflect in a meaningful way or see clearly on that o holiest of nights, but it was on Christmas that I realized the charge that a certain object had for me. It became clear to me that this charge had to be channelled, and through this blog perhaps my own little bit of peace on earth will be born.

As my mother in law commandeered duties at my kitchen sink around 11:00 am on Christmas morning getting up to wash each individual item placed in the sink over the course of 9 hours and a couple of meals, (prepping and serving at least a dozen different items for eight people throughout the day) I struggled to understand why I was not feeling a great sense of gratitude. While my husband and I prepared the most divine brussel sprout and cranberry dish, cooked a wonderful turkey and succeeded at my first attempt at cornbread stuffing, I cringed as I placed each utensil or dirty pan into my kitchen sink. Over the past nineteen years of studying her as a primary document and deepening my understanding of her through secondary sources, namely her son- I have formed my own thesis to explain her incessent cleaning and her enthusiasm to wash my dishes. But as I prepped a wonderful meal and played hostess to our family, I vowed to figure out why the actions around my kitchen sink were so jarring.

My mother in law's refusal to use my eco-friendly dish soap (choosing only to use the dish soap that she brought even when she had to keep filling it with water to make it usable), her comments about my uncomfortable couch and her declaration to my 4 month pregnant sister in law that she looked like she was going to have twins have provided us with some good laughs over the past few days. But the space of a few days and deeper reflection on the sinks of kitchens' past seem to clarify why the kitchen sink is the epicenter of my ideas of class, gender roles and power. Perhaps the space of this blog will allow me to wade through the murky waters.