Category: Relations

DEREK AND THE DASTARDLY DISHWASHER

Published on by Diary of Ann Franks2 Comments

My stepson was home over Spring Break, which aside from numerous grandparent dinners, was largely unexceptional. Until Saturday. Friends were in from out-of-town and Derek was kind enough to straighten the kitchen for me after I’d asked three times. I guess he wanted to make sure I REALLY wanted it cleaned. I have to admit, I was impressed with the final results. I only had to run a sponge over a couple of spots that were no doubt difficult for male eyes to see. Typically I’d have had to call him back in several times to explain that pots and pans actually have to be placed in the dishwasher, rather than left to “air clean” on top of the stove.

When my friends arrived I showed them into the den, adjacent to the kitchen, and offered drinks. As I approached the refrigerator, I noticed something on the floor. My mind grappled to identify what my eyes were seeing  as I gasped, which brought my friends racing to my side. I’m sure they thought I’d come across a mouse, lizard, or some such unwanted creature, but luckily, that wasn’t the case. Instead, my dishwasher was spewing white suds. 

A miniature lake of foam stretched across the floor. I think I spun in a circle about three times before I made the decision to stop the dishwasher.  (I’m not that great in emergency situations.) I then spun another three times deciding whether to go ahead and make drinks for my friends, and a double for myself, or simply to fetch the mop. Bad hostess or bad housekeeper? Eh, the floor’s slate. It would keep. As I tended bar I called my husband in to investigate.

So did the dishwasher just go wonky? Get clogged up? Nope. College boy put Dawn dishwashing liquid in the dispenser. Derek was called in to assist with mopping while my friend explained to her mesmerized 4-year-old the difference between dishwashing soap and dishwasher detergent. Hint: One doesn’t make suds.

Of course there was no lasting damage. We ran the dishwasher about three times on rinse and it was good as new. I now have a very clean floor, very clean dishwasher and a stepson who keeps asking why we put those two very confusing soaps next to each other under the sink. (We’re just diabolical that way.)

The entire incident reminded me of  his younger brother’s reasoning at the age of 9. Austin spilled a Coke in his room one day and refused to clean it up, screeching, “It’s not my fault!” 

“How is it not your fault?” we asked. 

“They made the can too slippery!”

Who can argue with that logic?

But boys grow up to become men, and this young man will return to school tomorrow with memories of all those dinners, a baseball game with his dad and granddad, and a bit more personal knowledge of a mop than I’m sure he ever expected.

DID YOU SAY EATING OR BEATING?

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Dinner with the folks is losing what little luster it once had.  Sure, we go to expensive restaurants that are not in my normal operating budget, but I also have to sit with my mother and stepfather for 2.5 hours. During that 2.5 hours, I spend a lot of time praying for the waiter or waitress. “Please Lord, don’t let them overfill the water-glass. Please Lord, let them bring hot bread, and butter that is not frozen solid.”  Believe me, if these prayers are not answered, we are going to hear about it for the rest of the meal, and in a loud enough tone that the entire restaurant will be aware of the deficiencies.

At one delightful Sunday family brunch I was sawing away at my wrist with a butter knife as I listened to my mother complaining about the temperature in the room, the glare from the windows, and the way the hostess had looked at her.  When the waiter placed a champagne cocktail in front of her that did not contain the requisite cube of sugar with a drop of bitters, I thought the world had ended.  “Oh my goodness…they can’t be serious. No sugar cubes? Well, I don’t want this…”

My stepfather interrupted from the other end of the table in an effort to resolve the issue. “Annette! What do you want?” As we waited for her response, my brother piped in, “To complain.” 

I swear the waiter giggled.

Each extravagant meal takes on some hellish theme involving the food, the service, or the atmosphere. Sometimes, if we’re really lucky, it’ll be a combination of the three. But regardless of what happens during the appetizer, entrée, and dessert, the tension mounts as we anticipate the waiter’s arrival to clear.

This can go badly in so many ways. If you are in the food service industry, let me give you a couple of tips on dealing with my parents. (And probably others of that older generation.) First, do not try to take the plate of someone who has finished while others are still eating. This  spawns at the very least a reprimand / etiquette lesson and at the worst, a call to your mother telling her she’s incompetent as a parent. Trust me.  Do not remove plates until everyone has “closed” them. Second – and this sometimes happens in unison with removing the plates too soon – DO NOT ASK “Are you through working on this?” If you do ask such a thing, you will be on the receiving end of a glare from my stepfather that is so potent it can render you unconscious. He will then explain to you that he is NOT, in fact, WORKING on anything. He is enjoying his dinner. YOU, my friend, are WORKING, and obviously not doing a very good job of it.

I still remember my birthday dinner a few months ago ending this way:  A manager at our table, and a ten minute lecture on teaching his staff that diners / customers are not WORKING.  This is when I typically excuse myself to the ladies room (a.k.a. bar).

Good luck to us all out there. Easter is coming and Mother’s Day isn’t far behind. May your plates be full, your waitstaff competent and your butter knife handy.

WHAT DID SHE SAY?

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My grandmother has a unique way of expressing herself. It’s not always the statement itself that catches you off guard, but the inappropriateness. Her style is much like the twitter and TV show, $#*! My Dad Says.

Grandmother was raised on a dirt farm. She married a nice young man who sold 18-wheelers for a living. He did well and they were able to afford a nice house where they raised their three children, had a membership to the country club, and purchased a new Cadillac every few years. But as they say, you can take the girl out of the dirt farm, but you can’t take the dirt farm out of the girl.  Thank goodness. Since Grandmother was always demanding to be the center of attention, and was attractive enough to command that attention, I privately nicknamed her “Scarlet.”  Following are some Scarlet moments.

Scarlet assumed any repairman who came to the house was ignorant. One evening she was telling us how she spent HOURS instructing some poor man about how to repair her water heater, ending with the statement, “Well, he was as dumb and blank as any old billy-goat you ever tried to talk to.”

Not sure if she just made that up on the fly, or if that was a legitimate colloquialism. I have never been brave enough to throw that out in public myself, although there have been times when it would have applied. I think I have to wait until at least age 65 before I start throwing around comments like that.

I’m sad to say I can’t recall exactly in what reference she used the following expression. I believe it was during the same conversation about the water heater repairman.  “It was like watching a possum up a gum stump.” I am not clear about what THAT means, but it does appear in song lyrics dating back to at least the 1930s. As the rest of the song talks about ‘coons and huntin’ dogs, I remain at a loss. Perhaps she made this statement to the repairman and he then looked at her “…as dumb and blank as any old billy-goat you ever tried to talk to.”  That, I can understand.

Another aspect of Scarlet was her attitude about race. At one point we were talking about a maid who worked for my mother. Nothing scandalous, just a comment about asking her to help out during a baby shower or some such. Scarlet turned to my friend and leaned in to share a confidence. I took a step closer to them, alarm bells already going off in my head, just in time to hear, “I don’t know if you’ve ever had any dealings with…” Scarlet cast a sideways glance to see who might be overhearing and continued in a stage whisper, “Mexicans…” My friend’s eyes grew large and I could see her face twitch as she struggled to repress laughter.  Thanks, Sandy, for keeping a straight face.

At a baby shower my mother hosted, friends were admiring family photos arranged on a table near where my grandmother was sitting.  A woman innocently commented on one photo in particular, saying something complimentary about the children pictured. “Who is this?” she asked, turning the photo toward Scarlet. Knowing full well the portrait was my stepfather’s children and grandkids, Scarlet shrugged and replied, “Oh, those are HIS people.” The implication that they were deserving of no recognition was not lost on the observers, who quickly retreated to the other side of the room and refrained from commenting on any other photos, lest they compliment someone who was not blood related.

If confronted with any of these comments today, I’m certain Grandmother would not take any of them back. She is unashamed by her judgements. This news might distress her grandson’s previous girlfriends, “Ugly Face” and “Ugly Mouth,” but the rest of us are used to her and really wouldn’t have it any other way. It certainly makes family gatherings more interesting. I can’t think of any other time when my eyes are so bright, or my coloring so high.

TOP TEN ANNOYING THINGS – ABOUT MEN

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Some things are annoying. The plethora of reality TV shows focused on housewives, for instance. Also, people who can name the finalists on American Idol, but not the vice president of the United States. My husband accuses me of looking for things to annoy myself. That’s possible, but at least I didn’t have to look far – she said with love and a dash of sarcasm.

In all fairness, I believe this list is not particular to my husband, or my stepsons. Now, on to the cattiness.

(Photo by Gayle Lindgren)

10. The Toilet Seat Saga. This is easy. Although not an actual issue at my house most of the time, I figure it’s a hot topic amongst those with less “toilet trained husbands.” (So to speak.) If I had my ideal, even the toilet lid would be closed. Someone once pointed out, “If you don’t want anyone to look at the picture, don’t put a frame around it.” Amen, sister.

9. The TV Remote is NOT a Right. It’s a Privilege and Should be Used Judiciously. Another gimme. No need to rehash this, right?

8. My Car Stereo is Not Yours. My husband sometimes decides the CDs I regularly have in my changer need to be rotated out. So there I am, driving home from work, irritated, stressed… I reach for the CD player – disk 2, song 6, to blow off a little steam. What happens? A song by a musician I either don’t know or can’t stand blares out of my speakers. I am now even more stressed and irritated than I was a few moments ago. No wonder women have a bad reputation on the road. They are probably all digging through the glove box or under seats looking for their missing CDs.

7. Riding Shotgun with The Bandit. My perfectly normal, pleasant husband (and every guy I ever dated) becomes aggressive behind the wheel. It’s a constant battle to be in front of everyone else. Even approaching a red light, he cannot slow down and fall into line behind the slower car – even if he is turning right at the light. No, he must PASS the slower car, missing the vehicle bumper in front of us by mere inches as he propels us into the coveted lane. I cringe and look out the passenger window, ignoring whatever is happening in front of us and trying to suppress those gasping sounds that are no doubt on HIS list of annoying things women do.

6. Temper-ature. This battle is especially bad…well, all year round. In the winter the comforter is too hot for the man, so he just throws his section to my side. This effectively doubles the comforter covering me, so I wake up drenched in sweat. In the summer, he wants no blanket or comforter at all. However, I, like many women I know, like to have a little “weight” on them when they sleep. Even a light blanket will do. This is impossible to survive when the temperature is 80 degrees and hubby refuses to turn on the AC. The other night our bed was stripped of everything but a sheet. It looked like a prison bunk. I asked if he wanted to confiscate my shoe strings for safety sake.

5. Your Electronics are Screaming at Me. I don’t know when my husband and his children went completely deaf, but they did. For some reason the volume on everything has to be so high the paint is peeling off the walls. I can sit at the other end of the house and hear every word being said on the television. I can turn the volume down from 50+ to 30 or less, and hear everything just fine. And no, it’s not turned up to drown out my complaining. I text my complaints. He reads those because he keeps thinking I might be “sexting” him.

4. Stop Eating My Food. Upon my marriage to their father, my stepsons developed a taste for everything that was “mine.” Suddenly, regular soft drinks weren’t good enough for them. They wanted my caffeine free Dr. Pepper. All of it. They also wanted my favorite cracker, my salt & vinegar chips, and my sorbet. I have to place my favorite items either so low they won’t notice them, or in places they never look, like the Tupperware cabinet. This practice is less successful than you might think. My guess is the dog helps them. I rarely get more than one handful of something before I find the box / wrapper / can in the trash.

3. Kitchen Counter Clutter. The more I move off the main counter and into the office or a less visible counter, the more stuff accumulates. “Gee, Ann, thanks for making room for my bike helmet and gloves and random catalogues. I didn’t know what to do with them, but now I can put them right here where I can find them again in an instant.”

2. The Bedroom is Not a Sports Bar. I’ve known members of both sexes that sleep with a TV on, so it’s not just men. I just think men are less compromising on the subject. I generally don’t want a TV in the bedroom PERIOD. (Unless I am sick, in which case I LOVE the TV.) My husband, on the other hand, apparently had an established habit of falling asleep to the sounds of Old West gunfire, sporting events and screeching tires. This habit was a mystery to me until after our wedding. Now, I have to hold a pillow over my ears and wear a sleep mask to block out the noise / light play. We have 3 other TVs in the house. Watch one of those.

1. Dish-stress. I can’t stand dirty dishes in the sink. This is my mother’s fault. Women pass this gene down just like the shopping or shoe hoarding gene. It’s been more than 7 years and I still haven’t broken my men of this habit. They despise a clean, empty basin. An alarm must go off in their heads the second I load the dishwasher. I will leave the room for 2 minutes and come back to find someone has deposited in my clean sink a knife covered in peanut butter and a glass with milk residue. Shockingly, no one admits responsibility.