Thankful for Dirty Dishes

As I was grumbling over washing the dishes for what seemed like the hundredth time in one day, a poem etched on a ceramic dish in my mother's kitchen came to mind.

"Thank God for dirty dishes,

They have a tale to tell,

While others my go hungry

We're eating very well"

I don't know who wrote this, where it came from, or even if it's a rhyme everyone already knows, but it helps me to remember all the things I'm thankful for that might at first glance - and sometimes even the hundredth - seem aggravating, a chore, or simply a daily grind. The areas I need to view in a positive light rather than in the negative manner I have a tendency to embrace.

Mind you, this is only a few of those things that make me want to grumble. Things I need to put into proper perspective. Getting stuck at the railway crossing for a slow moving train, that after seven agonizingly long and never-ending minutes, decides to move backwards, is not and may never be on this list! Then again, maybe I should find a way to use that time constructively instead of getting frustrated that I'm wasting away to nothing because I've been sitting there forever.

So, on that note, I'm thankful for:

• Dirty dishes, because that means I have food.
• Laundry, because that means I have clothes.
• The need to vacuum the carpet, clean the toilets, wipe down the counters, etc., because that means I have a home.
• The messes made by family, friends and furry companions, because that means I'm not alone.

I'm even thankful for the mistakes I've made which have caused me to learn and grow. One thing I don't ever want to be is stagnant from lack of growth or arrogant because I think I already know the answer. Frankly, just because a particular solution worked for someone else doesn't mean it will work for me, and vice versa.

While I certainly don't relish the chores, tasks, messes, and sorrows that are part and parcel of life, I am thankful for my life. Because I also get to experience, the love, laughter, joy, and beauty that come with it. And those I am most definitely thankful for.

Picking My Zombie Slayer

I readily admit I'm a fan of the The Walking Dead. While I'm not a zombie aficionado or the kind of fan who dresses up and sends in their zombified photo, I thoroughly enjoy the show. That is, when I'm not squeezing my eyes closed at some gruesome death. Which is around twenty-five percent of the time, give or take.

Realizing that zombies are all the rage right now, I found myself one day reflecting quite soberly on how I might survive a zombie apocalypse, or z-calypse as I like to think about it, because that many syllables is tiring. Anyway, utilizing the cast on the hit series, I was trying to decide who I would do my utmost best to cower behind. I don't necessarily write that tongue-in-cheek. Why? Because I know my limitations. If left to my own devices, I would be dead meat by the first episode. My idea of a survival kit is toilet paper, Oreos with Double Stuf, lighters, and books. I am, however, smart enough to know I need someone stronger and more equipped to handle such an event than myself if I want to survive.

Which brings me back to cowering.

At first I thought it would be the good sheriff Rick Grimes. But then I realized, while he's smart, protective, relentless, and hard-working, he's a very lean man and at times appears as if a stiff wind would knock him over. Not very assuring.

Then I saw T-dog and was like "yeah baby". This big boy was tough, strong and had a punch like a sledgehammer. Yet his heart was kind. Unfortunately he took one for the team and is now only a fond memory. One I like to think about as sweet music overlaid with hazy images move in slow-mo across my mind.

Now I had to get serious and take a harder and more thoughtful look at who was available. And there he was. Right in front of my face. Daryl Dixon. Sigh. Rugged and a little wild, he's the ultimate survivalist. Though I had my doubts at first, he's become a real go-getter, and not above using whatever it takes to get what he's going after. He's wicked smart, wicked fast and has wicked aim. Not to mention the back view is just as good as the front. Hmm. Sound familiar?

However, a more recent member to the team has started to pique my survival instincts and now I'm torn. Michonne is as relentless as Rick and as wicked fast and accurate with her choice of weapon as Daryl. She carries her confidence like a second skin and her senses are as sharply honed as her katana blade. She's always alert to the sights and scents of danger, much like a jaguar with cubs to protect, and her busy brain never seems to cease.

Decisions, decisions. Thankfully The Walking Dead is only a television show and I won't ever have to make such a difficult choice in order to see another day.

Then again, real life is, at times, stranger than fiction and one never knows what's just around the corner. Shuffling. Moaning. And very, very hungry.

Forgiving an Onion

In my book "Haze of Heat" Melinda Felix tells Rachel and Gwen that seeking vengeance is a soul-destroying poison we expect the other person to drink. I think this is important because vengeance is a bitterness caused from unforgiveness. Forgiving somebody for a betrayal, hurt or simply ticking you off, sucks. There's no doubt about it. But I think to be a healthy individual, it needs to be done.

For myself, I have to think of it like an onion. At first I'm all flippant and flimsy, like the outermost layer of an onion, but as I forgive again and again (and for the same reason because taking a sledgehammer to that onion will only make a nasty, stinky mess) I put some power into it. Why? Because I want to do something with that onion, like make homemade spaghetti, a spinach and artichoke dip or some spicy salsa.

One of the main reasons I need to learn to forgive is because bitterness - that poison - makes me cranky. And the more hurt I feel, the snarlier I become. Not a pretty picture. I don't want to lash out at a bystander because they innocently prodded a wound caused by some idiotic soul (see how well I'm forgiving?) several years ago.

Hurt people really do hurt other people. I've got one of those in my life. Not a close individual, but close enough and with plenty of his own unforgiving hurts that he has bouts of - ahem - unhappiness that affects all those within hearing distance. Since taking a sledgehammer to him is not socially acceptable - and quite illegal - I have to forgive him over and over and over again. And over again.

My goal is to be able to take that onion and put it in a food processor and be done with it. Just like I need to be strong and save up money to afford that nice, shiny, expensive food processor, I need to be strong and determined to forgive those who, whether knowingly or not, have hurt me PDQ.

Now there are many, many situations I have not experienced, and I'm most definitely not saying I could forgive anybody anything - just ask my husband what I would do to him if he ever cheated. I'm just saying that even if I got to the food processor stage of my life, an onion might very well come along that won't fit. I'll curse and scream and argue and weep. I may even throw that onion against the wall, stomp on it, or simply turn my back on it. I do hope that I won't ignore it forever. That I'll have the strength and will to tackle that multi-layered bulb, even if it means starting at the beginning. Why?

Because I just found this really interesting recipe that calls for one, large onion to be caramelized.