Rinse, then Repeat

There's a popular franchise out there that attempts to help people keep their house clean. They call the clean people "Cleanies" and the messy people "Messies." You know who you are.

The Cleanies cannot understand how the Messies can walk past simple clutter and not take the ten seconds to grab it on the way to the other room. The Messies are boggled at how the Cleanies can keep their homes so clean while holding down a job.

Messies are full of excuses as to why the house is a chaotic sty, and Cleanies always offer suggestions for "organizing" so the Messies "learn" how to clean. To-do lists, schedules, delegation--all these tips are an attempt to reform the Messie. These tips fall on deaf ears, because the crux of the problem is that the Messies just don't give a flying hooter. (But what exactly they don't care about may surprise you.)

The excuses that Messies give rarely hold water. (Maybe an occasional excuse from a Cleanie is legitimate, but not from Messies.) Messies are quite talented at rationalization. They rationalize to themselves and to anyone else who will listen. They are just so busy, or too tired, or have no support, or have more important things in life to attend to, or hold relationship higher than household duties, or they are just "disorganized" people with no hope.

The fact of the matter is that Messies do care about their environment. They are affected by the chaos around them, and their spirit vibrates low in their messy home. They do care about exposing their messiness to the surprise visitor, and if given warning, will often clean frenetically to avoid mortification. What they don't give a flying hoot about is themselves.

That may sound a bit harsh, and the Messie's first reaction may be to sit up with indignation, but take a moment and think about it. Say it is a day you were home and no one was coming over. You do not shower, dress decently, or put on makeup or shave. You do not care about your own opinion enough to put out effort. If however, you knew that you had places to go and people to see, you might take that shower, and put yourself together. In other words, your personal hygiene is based on concern for what others think of you. You forget the fact that when you shower and look good, you feel better regardless of who is around. But your own feelings are not worth the bother.

It is the same with the home. If you were taught to "clean up for company" then why clean up otherwise? I am a Messie, I admit. Unfortunately, so is everyone else in my family. I married one, and together we are teaching our children the art. (There may be a genetic factor; sadly our children have it either way.) In response to being told to clean, my children are known to ask, "Who's coming over?" They already know that cleaning is to be reserved for others. Yet we all will readily admit that we yearn for a clean, comfortable environment. We all admit that we enjoy cleanliness immensely when it graces us. Yet we do not believe that we deserve it purely for ourselves.

I do clean for my husband to some extent, and he cleans for me when I ask him. But the effort is sporadic, as he never complains or holds me accountable. And when he is out of town, so much the less. If he came home every night and bemoaned the messy house and chastized me, he would be pleased at how clean the house would be. But manipulation is not his way, and I would be cleaning out of fear instead of love. It is not us.

So the solution, I am figuring out, is to change my core beliefs surrounding my own sense of worth. I will say to myself: "I deserve to be in a beautifully clean home. I am worth the effort it takes to clean it." Rinse, then repeat.

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No Soup for You!

It is fall now, and has been for a month, but the weather disproves it. Still, it is the season of pumpkins and falling leaves and soup. I had not made soup for months, but the last week of September I had the calling. I made a hearty cabbage vegetable on a Wednesday, and it took the better part of the day. I did not mind, and neither did my children. There was none left for the freezer, and barely two cups for the refrigerator. I did give some of it away however.

The next Wednesday I made chicken soup. It turned out extraordinary. There is something heartier and more satisfying about chicken stock over the vegetable broth. It must be the umami flavor. My children bemoaned the lack of leftovers again, despite the fact that I made over a gallon. But our neighbor had surgery, and she was much appreciative.

My chicken soup is amazing because of a secret ingredient. The secret has French origins through my mother. I tell our secret to everyone who loves my soup, because I want to spread the joy. I put a cinnamon stick in the stock while it is simmering. (My mother would just sprinkle cinnamon directly into her chicken soup, but I like the stick method.) When I pull out all the used veggies and bones, we eat the carrots instead of tossing them out with the rest. They are infused with cinnamon and are about near heaven.

Here's an interesting aside: what is the difference between stock and broth? Well, stock is made with bones, and broth is made with meat only (and/or vegetables). The bones give stock more body, and that umami flavor, which is the fifth flavor (after salty, sweet, sour, and bitter).

The following week, I made beef vegetable. I do not know what to do with beef unless it is ground, so that is how it goes into the soup. We all enjoy it more than the vegetable soup, again probably because of the additional fat and flavor. I find cabbage to be an excellent filler, and a substitute for noodles. A little grated goat cheese and chopped basil to garnish, and it is worth all the effort. The cinnamon goes into every soup, and plays up the beef as well. I don't believe we shared this soup, but there were still not many leftovers, maybe enough for a second helping the next day. It does not help when the children and I each have three bowls when it is ready.

Last week I had oral surgery myself, and really wanted some soup for afterwards. I decided to make chicken again, but I did it the easy way this time. It occurred to me after I bought a pre-cooked chicken that the bones were still quite useable for soup stock. I cannot believe I have not made soup from the bones before. It made a delicious simple chicken soup. Sadly, I needed to run it through my VitaMix to consume it with the open wound in my mouth. I had to get past the idea that it resembled what soup would look like after it were retched.

Food has taken on a whole new meaning post-braces. My teeth are shifting and sore, and my brackets are tenuously glued on. Just last night I lost an anchor bracket while brushing, and needed to have it reglued this morning. Food that can be consumed without popping a bracket, hurting my teeth, and getting stuck in my braces is king. Today's soup reflected that royal desire. I made the usual vegetable broth, flavored with parsley, bay, and cinnamon. Then I added sauteed onions and steamed jewel yam, and blasted it in the VitaMix to a creamy texture. I called it sweet potato soup even though there was nary a sweet potato to be seen. Somehow "jewel yam soup" does not roll off the tongue quite so easily, particularly with a mouth full of new appliances.

I love the soup. Sean has not tried it yet, but Amanda has. She does not like the "fluffy" texture. I have six two-cup containers of it in the refrigerator, so this soup may actually make it into the freezer. Although, since it passes the test for my teeth and brackets, I may just eat it all up myself.

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