Our Lady of Perpetual Dishwater

“Is this my mother who doesn’t blog,” asked Daughter #1 on the telephone last night. She continued to tell me how disappointed she was to find no new blog entries when she finally had time to catch up with her blog reading following her finals. So, apologies to anyone else who may have missed the blog. I have excellent excuses, which I promise I’ll keep to myself. I’m hereby setting a goal of blogging at least three times a week, so feel free to check back in. Maybe I’ll even write about cleaning my house – but that’s just a “maybe” not a goal.

Having taken some time away from blogging I am able to see, once again, that I am pretty far off of the original mark. When I began this blog and gave it such an awesome and catchy moniker, I really did intend to write abut cleaning house and how it related to my life story. My mother was a fun-loving, outgoing, beautiful woman, but she was also one dedicated housekeeper – so, many of my memories of her and of my formative years are associated with a very clean house. Even though I am the rebel child when it comes to following the example set by my mother when it comes to being a “housewife,” there are still a few ingrained lessons which are difficult to ignore.

Just yesterday, after washing up the lunch dishes before leaving the lake house, I swear to God these words came out of my mouth: “It’s a shame to waste all of this hot, soapy dishwater. Too bad there isn’t something else to clean.” I then had to explain to my shocked friend that I was channeling my mother, who at one time we dubbed “Our Lady of Perpetual Dishwater.”

My mother always had a sink full of hot, soapy dishwater and she wasn’t afraid to use it. From the time she woke up until the time she went to bed there were always suds in the sink ready to serve my mother’s every cleaning desire. One could hardly finish a drink or a plate of food before the dish was whisked away, washed, dried, and returned to the cupboard. (And we had an electric dishwasher!) Our countertops glistened, our appliances sparkled and no dirty pot or pan was allowed to soak overnight in her kitchen.

In my kitchen I am thrilled if I remember to soak the pans – it saves me from having to bring out a chisel when I’m ready to clean. I use my dishwasher daily, but on the occasion when I do run the tap until it steams and squirt in a copious amount of Ivory Liquid I always say a little prayer of thanks to “Our Lady of Perpetual Dishwater,” my mother, for teaching me how to do it right, even if I rarely follow her example.