Home improvements. Kitchen makeovers. Organize your space.
The titles in the magazines beckoned me. They implored me
to read them and to make my kitchen look exactly like
there’s.
“Okay. I can do this,” I said with Martha Stewart’s
confidence,
gazing at my own lived-in kitchen—lived in by me, my
husband, his mother (she’s 84) and our five kids. Oh yes,
let’s not forget the dogs. “I CAN transform my cooking
space from its broom closet-sized dimensions, into a
sprawling, gleaming, artistic palette of stainless steel
with just a hint of
country motif.”
And then I turned the page.
The perfectly coiffed kitchens were filled with ideas—most
of which I’d never imagined. Some ideas were pricier to
obtain than others. Still some were reasonable. A trip to
a local home improvement or department store would
suffice. At least it would lead me in the right direction.
Still something in those glossy pages was missing.
Where were the fingerprints? The stainless steel
refrigerator in the picture didn’t bear the multiple
fingerprints my black GE side-by-side sported. The ceramic
stovetop was streak-free. And the dishwasher had no trace
of permanently encrusted white powdered soap, laced with
tomato sauce stains. Hmmm.
Where was the wall garbage? Wall garbage? But of course.
That’s the stuff that misses the center of the garbage can
upon its initial hurl towards the can. Instead it relies
upon the wall behind the can as a backboard—leaving a
build-up of spatter and smears in its wake.
And where were the fruit flies? Endless bowls of perfectly
red, yellow and green fruit graced countertops and tables.
They glistened in the morning sunlight. They begged to be
peeled, eaten, or served with lunch. They communed in
bowls of brightly colored hues. And yet they sat in
solitude—just fruit with fruit. How dull. Where were the
fruit flies that swarm around every piece of fruit in my
kitchen—hovering just above my morning coffee or the kid’s
juice—and lighting occasionally in the butter dish? Why
weren’t they in these pictures?
That’s when I decided these magazine people needed a
reality check. They needed to spend a day doing a
photo-shoot in a kitchen like mine. They needed to scrape
backboard garbage from a wall—with their thumbnails. They
needed to Windex fingerprints from my appliances. And they
needed to dine in the company of fruit flies. The ambience
these attributes contribute to my kitchen décor far
surpasses that of any designer kitchen remake. Surely even
Martha could find a way to harness the unyielding power of
fruit flies.
Uncivilized, you may think? Perhaps. But our home is lived
in.
Amidst school papers, empty recyclables saved for making
crafts, and an endless supply of crumbs, we do take part
in the finer things in life. We bake fresh bread from time
to time. We enjoy home cooked dinners with our family. And
on that rare weekend evening, Hubby and I raise a glass
and
toast the abundance of blessings that lie within our home.
It’s a quick toast, however. Fruit flies are especially
fond of wine.
I guess I’ll forgo the kitchen makeover. In fact, I’m
grateful for the less-than-pristine kitchen our home
bears. I will, however, continue to peruse the magazines
for kitchens that far surpass many others—including my
own. But rather than categorizing them as “home
improvements” I’ll file them
neatly in my reading basket for rainy days—otherwise known
as “fiction.”
Excerpted from "Breathe Deeply 2: The Extended Family and
Beyond" by Kimberly Ripley, available in June 2005 from
Filbert Publishing.
http://www.kimberlyripley.writergazette.com
http://www.filbertpublishing.com
