Whose Turn is it to Wash Dishes?

As I wash the dishes, I go into the routine zone. That's what I call the place I go to when I do tasks on cue because I was trained by my parents to do so when I was a child. My mother made sure that when each Brown child got to the appropriate age, that child was trained to do certain housekeeping tasks. That way, the household work load was shared. My mother kept a clean house. It was modest, but it was clean. The kitchen cleaning process included clearing the table, scraping the plates so the food scraps went into the garbage can, washing and rinsing dishes/pots and utensils, wiping the tablecloth or the tabletop, putting away all condiments in the fridge or cabinet, and sweeping the floor. Each able child was assigned a week monthly for kitchen cleaning after dinner. Important rule: dishes were not allowed to sit on the table until the assigned child got around to cleaning up. When the last Brown left the table, the cleaning began. Dishes and food did not sit out all afternoon, evening, or all night. Thanks, Mom💗! 

Does this sound familiar to you?

www.sylviabrownroberts

 

Sleeping Alone or Sleeping With?

When you're used to someone sleeping in bed with you, it feels different when they don't. This is not a sad tale. This is about looking at the situation in more ways than one. Some people would rather sleep alone. Some people never want to sleep alone. It doesn't happen often, but when my husband's not here due to business travel, the bed isn't as warm on a cold winter night. I don't get to comfortably drift into sleep listening to his familiar breathing pattern. I don't get the sense of knowing that someone I trust is sleeping next to me.

On the other hand, on the rare times I do sleep alone, I don't have to search for the television remote in the morning. I only have to make up one side of the bed in the morning: my side.

I opt for sharing the bed with my partner. Your thoughts?

Smiles😊!   www.sylviabrownroberts.com

Stress Test Experience

I had my first stress test today. It was no joke. I used treadmills at the last gym I attended and have  used one at home, so I figured I'd pass the test without too much stress. The technician and the nurse practitioner told me what to expect as I had the gel and the sensors applied. I was mellow for the first phase and chatted comfortably with the staff members as they monitored me and the medical equipment. I soon learned this medical treadmill was a lot more than the one pictured here. Second phase: I walked more quickly, was still able to chat, but I breathed more deeply. Third phase: I jogged in order to keep up. As it sped up, I saw myself as Lucille Ball in one of her "I Love Lucy" episodes and as Martin Lawrence in one of his "Martin" exercise episodes. I held on tight to the bars to keep from flying off the treadmill backwards. My feet felt heavy. My lungs screamed at me. The last time I remember running this hard, I was twelve and a dog was chasing me. I kept running until the third phase was slowed down. I know I looked all kinds of crazy, but I gave it my all. How was your first stress test experience?😊

 www.sylviabrownroberts.com

 

Family Life

Here's one way to make a family member come into the kitchen: mop the kitchen floor. It's pretty much guaranteed that before the floor is dry, your beloved spouse, one of your adorable children, auntie, or another one of your precious kinfolk will feel the need to walk into the kitchen, all over your wet kitchen floor. Try to keep cool.

Some of you know I'm right. 😄

Sylvia @www.sylviabrownroberts.com

Is It Worth Fussing About?

When I walked into the kitchen and saw this, I went into under-my-breath fuss mode. "He never empties the toaster crumbs after he uses this toaster! He never wipes down the outside of the toaster!" Before I could get wound up, I thought about a dear elderly woman whose beloved husband was called to his rest years ago. She told me how she regularly, quietly, and lovingly checked to make sure he turned off the toaster oven after heating his nightly snack: often a slice of her homemade pie that he'd top with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. She did this to keep the toaster oven from overheating-a fire hazard. She thought it was a small task considering what a hard-working man, wonderful father, and loving husband he was. He showed daily that he was a God-fearing man.

I'm thankful I thought of her words. I know she'd gladly continue to check the toaster oven if she could have him still here with her. My fussing attitude was promptly checked and replaced by thoughts of how my husband shows that he loves me.  God sends what and who we need when we need such to help us grow. We have to be open to receive the grace He sends. I'm thankful I listened and was humbled.

Sylvia @www.sylviabrownroberts.com

 

Don't Start Stuff With People.

There's a young grocery store cashier who's very quiet and very efficient. She's not the type to make small talk, but every now and then she responds "Welcome" to my "Thank you." It doesn't matter to me that she isn't chatty. Maybe she's shy. Maybe English isn't her first language. I'm happy that she works so swiftly, and I usually aim for her line because of her skill. One day, an older male customer in line ahead of me kept trying to make her talk. He repeated about three times: "Good afternoon. It's a nice day, isn't it? I said good afternoon. How are you doing today?" She didn't respond. She kept her head down and moved the grocery items, tapped the keys, bagged the groceries, announced the bill amount, and gave him his change. She did her job. I got a negative vibe from his behavior. It dawned on me that he was trying to make her talk to him and he felt she should be honored he was willing to interact with her. I started to say something, but she looked at me like she had it under control. When she finished bagging my items and gave me my change, she smiled and said to me, "Have a nice day!" I smiled and repeated the words to her.

Tell me what you think that was all about.         Sylvia @www.sylviabrownroberts.com

Did You Lose Your Ring?

This is my confession: for five days, I couldn't find this ring. It's the ring my husband gave me eleven years ago in honor of our 10th wedding anniversary. It nestles between my wedding band and my engagement ring. Some may think it's modest, but to me, it's just right. I rarely take these two off my finger. 

About a week ago, I took off this ring and the wedding band before putting my hair in two strand twists. The product I use is not good for the stone and gets in the grooves of the band. I thought I put both rings on a ring stand. The next morning, I saw only the band on the ring stand. For the next few days I churned my brain and searched all over for the yellow gold ring. I prayed. I determined to tell the truth. On the 6th day, I found my ring in a pocket of the pants I wore the day I twisted my hair. Has something like this happened to you? Hope you had a happy ending, too.

Sylvia @www.sylviabrownroberts.com