Ode to a Kitchen Table

A friend of mine who is a priest in Los Angeles posed a question on Facebook the other day.  He asked what object represented intimacy, not sexual intimacy, but the intimacy that comes from being in relationship with someone for a long time.  He was working on a sermon about something that I didn't pay attention to, but the question struck me.

And I immediately knew what my answer was.  The object that represents relational intimacy to me most is a kitchen table.  Certainly some specific kitchen tables, including my own, but also the kitchen table of history and of life.

First night of semester exams

We never hung out at the kitchen table much when I was growing up -- the breakfast room was back in a corner of the house, there wasn't much going on in the kitchen in the first place, and the dining room table was reserved only for holiday dinners, when my grandparents came to town, and the mail.  But in my house, the kitchen table is the center of all things.  It may be because I don't allow food upstairs.  It may be because I don't allow television during the week or the computer is down here or there's a comfy couch nearby for reading.  It may be because our kitchen table is where everybody is together most of the time.  It may be because my children can't go ten feet inside a door without dropping their shit everywhere and that's the closest place.  Who's to say?

But for whatever the reason, everything gets done at the kitchen table.  Eating, talking, crafts, projects, and homework, lots and lots of homework over the years.  And it makes me happy.  G has a desk in her room and does her fair share of cocooning, but usually only on the weekends.  S has never had a desk and when asked if she wanted a cool piece of furniture to use as a pull-down desk, she said she'd never use it because she always does her homework downstairs.

The table is where our family is a family.  And although T is gone most of the week, what I find deeply moving is that his place is always laid with a napkin (when there are any) and his place is always cleared.  The kids usually don't dump their books and papers there.  They'll dump their stuff on my place, but I'm around to clean it up.  Daddy's place is sacred.  I love that.  It's like the empty chair for Elijah at a Jewish Seder.  Keeping his place means he's always with us, even when he's away.

And I deeply love this table, too.  I especially love it when no one is here.  It's cleaned off and the napkins (when there are any) are folded.  And there are several more hours that it will stay that way because no one is here.  It is a place of infinite possibility:  newspaper reading, emailing, writing, reading, coffee drinking making to-do lists and including things you've already done so you can cross them off.  Wait.  What?

Kids' first day back to school a/k/a hooray!

And I love other people's kitchen tables, too.  My stuffy Florida grandmother's kitchen table had a butter dish that you were forbidden to get crumbs into - hello, butter knife!  But I can still smell the heavy scent of my grandfather's dark rye bread on all those summer mornings.  My mother-in-law's kitchen table has seen any number of looooong family gatherings - we are outgrowing her small apartment now that our kids have become adult-sized, but that table carries so many wonderful memories.  And it will continue to.

My best friend's kitchen table is a huge round, but we always sat right next to each other and drank coffee on those endless mornings when our kids were little and sucking the souls out of us.  We drank coffee and talked about what we would do and where we would go when we didn't have toddlers.  New York!  Paris!  New Orleans!  Who cares?!  And now, we don't have toddlers anymore.  And our oldest ones are starting to figure out their college choices.  But the table that was once a life raft may well be again, for a different reason.

And that's okay.

I think.

GYST Day Two

Get Your Shit Together Report

Day Two (Tuesday):  Seriously, this was one of those days.  Not a bad one, just one with lots to do outside the house.  Still, I did cross one thing off the list today:  "Meals for A."  My sister-in-law, whom I adore, may or may not have thyroid cancer.  She was having half of her thyroid out Tuesday, so I've been making yummy things for us for a week and doubling up for her.  That way, she can take it easy.

I went out early on the worst, coldest, drizzliest day to have a delightful birthday lunch with my super bff, L, and then off to deliver meals in Round Rock.  Threw the dinners in her freezer and sat down for a visit.  A is a trooper, and the good news is that everything looked good after the surgery.  And the even better news is that we had a lovely visit with A, my mother-in-law, and A's mother.  It was nice to slow down, have a coffee, and chat on a cold day like that.

Now, a visit wasn't on my list, and I stayed much longer than I'd intended, but those are the times that make a life.  I'm not going to sweat it; in fact, I'm going to embrace it.

Family matters.

Battle Plan

Okay, so, I am going back to work this week.  Now, please don't mistake what I'm doing for real work.  All of my teacher friends are doing this day after day in the trenches, and I'm swooping in to help teach something I love with few strings attached.  I won't have to do the grading, make the copies, follow up each of the mini-lessons, etc.  God bless Jenn and Emily for all that they do.  And for letting me come.


That said, I am going to be working full-time days Tuesday through Friday this week, which will be the first real test of The Project.  I've had some busy days here and there, but nothing like this.  So, Saturday night, I started my battle plan.  I did a full week's meal plan (except for the large family dinner I have planned for Friday night.  Because I am insane).  I have made some notes about prep or entire meals that can be done in advance, and I am relying heavily on my gas grill and crock pot this week.


I made a list with all the necessary ingredients and shopped Monday.  The Month II banner is a picture of my menu plan and shopping list.  Yes, that does say cheap vodka with a star by it -- it's for my homemade cleaning spray, people.  Seriously?  Do I sound that unhinged?  Oh.  I guess you could drink it in case of dire need, but really, why not drink Tito's?  Anyway, I'm hoping that a little advance preparation will make things work.


I also know how handy that Sonic is, too.  The sign in front of our local Sonic now says, "WE HAVE SWEET POTATO TOTS."  Get behind me, Satan.


So, here's the plan:


Saturday:  Make salad dressing for the week ( I almost never buy dressing anymore.  It's super cheap to make and doesn't contain all the unpronounceables).


Sunday:  STYX concert!  What?  The 1980s show band with the hot blonde lead singer?  The one that sang Domo Arregato, Mr. Roboto (sp)?  Indeed.  I'm sure they haven't aged any either.


Monday:   Shop.  Yoga.  Tennis night.  Make quiches for Tuesday dinner.  Garlic chicken thighs in crock pot.  Rice.  Salad or broccoli.


Tuesday:  School.  Gym.  Appt.  Percussion concert.  Quiche.  Marinate skirt steak.


Wednesday:  School.  Math tutoring.  Skirt steak sandwiches on ciabatta roll, arugula salad (dressing from Saturday) on sandwiches.  Marinate pork tenderloin.


Thursday:  School.  Gym.  Blessedly nothing unless I'm wrong about the track meet being next week.  In which case, I will be on the floor in a fetal position.  Grilled pork tenderloin.  Mashed potatoes.  Broccoli if it lasts that long.


Friday: School.  Whatever I can pull out of my ass for my parents and my brother's family.


It all looks so easy on the screen.  Ha!


Pray for me.