Dishwasher Suicide and Other Problems

Most amusing sight this week around our household - Larry lying on the couch, ignoring all the boxes and miscellany crowded into our family room and reading a book titled Get It Done. All I can say is, it wasn't working.

Theo has returned home from his summer job to a hero's welcome. I won't say it wasn't an emotional reunion at times, particularly when he opened the refrigerator door with tears in his eyes. He looks to have lost about 15 pounds over the summer. At least I've now got one kid who truly appreciates a full fridge and central air conditioning.


It's only been 2 months in our new abode, and we've already managed to kill the dishwasher. Actually, I think it committed suicide. After 20 years of being used only once or twice a week by the former owner, it just couldn't hack our 2-times-a-day-sometimes-3 regimen. Larry and I moseyed on over to Best Buy (anything to get away from the children, you know) to purchase a new one (because we are made of money); and we were surprised to realize that dishwashers (at least, ones sturdy enough to withstand our not-so-typical use) are costing upwards of 600 dollars these days. We were also surprised (well, not really) to realize that, out of approximately 20 display models, there was only one model that we managed to agree on. And it didn't come in white. So we came home dishwasherless, much to the dismay of Anna, who wants to know "what do you mean wash the dishes by hand?" and who is feeling much put upon lately. Anna is no longer 13, by the way, thanks be to God; we're hoping that her being 14 may bring us some relief from the hell that she has been putting us through for the past year.

We are even more relieved that Rachel is turning 5 tomorrow, which means that she will no longer be 4 and that maybe, just maybe, we can put the events of last year behind us. Not that we were traumatized by all the plumbing incidents, stuffed-animal beheadings, and whatever else she inflicted upon us over the past 12 months; we are just hoping for a teeny little respite from not being able to trust our own children. Age 5 is still too young for boarding school - I checked. Of course, she doesn't endear herself to me any further by her habit of voicing her thoughts out loud to herself. The other day, as I was getting dressed, I heard her commenting, "Mommies have big bottoms. Not cute little bottoms like mine." I guess it's time to get back to those Weight Watcher meetings.

David, Brian, and Susie are enjoying all the festivities and cake which are attendant on having 2 family birthdays within one week. And we are all enjoying (with the exception of Anna, who does not enjoy anything involving us) having Theo back home to cook us gourmet meals (hey, I do do most of the shopping and food prep). At least all the good food has helped to distract us from the fact that it has been in the 90's here for approximately forever, and it will remain that way for the foreseeable future. I think we need to move to Canada. Larry doesn't seem receptive to that idea, however. I think he's lost his sense of adventure somewhere. That's what happens as you age, I guess. He's got only 2 more months until he turns 40; and he's turning grayer by the minute. Though that may not all be due to the aging process, now that I think about it.

Well, time to be getting to bed - I've got 1/2 a bushel of peaches to turn into preserves in the morning, if they don't manage to rot overnight. Yet another over-enthusiastic purchase of mine at the local farmer's market, I'm afraid. At least they didn't cost as much as the 40 quarts of strawberries the kids brought home in June. I think we buy more produce in one summer than most people used to see in their entire lives.

Enough, already!