Tools

My husband is a carpenter and his mantra is, "You are only as good as the tools you use." One look into our garage and I am assured that he is a really great carpenter. I have no idea what all that hardware is called but I know that he is often the envy of the DIY crowd. He also likes to remind me that I should not be using dull knives and Tupperware from 1972 (maybe I like harvest gold). I agree with him on most counts but I often cringe at the cost of the really high end kitchen tools. I don't cook for a living so it is difficult to justify such expenditures on a regular basis.

I confess that I have a few non-negotiable tools in my kitchen, no what matter the cost. One of the biggies is a Kitchen Aid mixer. My family doesn't need a DNA test to determine whether we are related. Just check our kitchens and if there is a Kitchen Aid mixer on the counter, there is a good chance that we share the same genetics. I actually wore out my first mixer, after replacing the motor once in an attempt to add more life to my friend. I now have an upgraded machine, sans the harvest gold color. It is a faithful workhorse for any mixing project.

My microplane also holds a special place in my kitchen. I resisted its purchase due to owning a couple of perfectly good graters. My sister gave me one for a gift and now I'm hooked. I use it for ginger, citrus zest, garlic, nutmeg, whatever needs a fine touch. My husband wholeheartedly approves the status of this one as it looks like something he carries around in his truck.

I have limited counter space so I don't make countertop appliance purchases without some serious thought. I hesitantly bought a small food processor a few years ago, fully believing I would regret it within a month. It has become one of my favorite go-to timesavers. It takes the knuckle shaving out of any grating job and whirs up bread crumbs in seconds. It is worth the prime real estate it inhabits.

A tomato slicer knife came into my life unintentionally. It was a gift from one of my husband's customers. It has become the one knife that I will dig in the garbage for if it is misplaced (yes, I have done that and found it buried under some vegetable peelings). It goes far beyond tomatoes with its clean slicing of fruits, veggies, bread, baked goods, whatever. And its sharp tip makes it a good stabber. I have since ordered two more so I'm prepared the next time I accidentally toss one out.

I'm sure most carpenters and cooks will admit that there is always one more tool that would make life easier. For me, I think it might be time for a new Dutch oven. Mine was a wedding gift (circa 1976) and despite its well constructed harvest gold splendor, I am feeling the need for an update. My secret desire is a Le Creuset, any color. One look at the price, however, and I can easily convince myself that my chicken soup loves harvest gold as much as I do.

Labor

As much as I would like my summer to fade into a blur of leisure, my inner guilt gibbon makes sure that I don't succumb to such tomfoolery. Last summer I started a Treadmill Journal in an attempt to stay focused and productive. It had a checklist of categories that I used to stay disciplined each day. This year I'm feeling a little less structured so I'm going to focus on only one category, the Distasteful Task. Each day I am making myself finish one job that I find repugnant. Unfortunately or fortunately, there is no end of such tasks at my house.

I usually begin with the one that I find most disgusting, cleaning the entryway closet. It is a multi-shelved repository for all the flotsam and jetsam two people accumulate throughout a year's worth of sharing space. It holds everything from light bulbs to batteries to paper plates to coats to bird seed to brooms to mittens. You get the idea. It's a miscellaneous mosh pit. I'm happy to report that I've successfully pulled every single item out of its clutches and tossed, cleaned or reorganized each piece, promising not to be such a pig from now on.

Next I moved on to the bedrooms. Last year I discovered a corner behind a closet door that looked like blue carpet (it should be beige). Who knew that a year without vacuuming behind a closet door causes carpet to take on a dusty skyglow?  This year I found no such hue so at least I kept one of my piggy promises. There were still plenty of cobwebs and dust bunnies to keep my vacuum cleaner wailing.

The bathroom was next in the line of fire. I lulled myself into thinking it would be a snap as it's one room that gets a going over each week (sort of). My bravado lasted only until I opened the bathroom cupboard. Stray Q-tips, empty prescription boxes, hotel shampoo bottles and old sunscreen stared at me with a "catch-me-if-you-can" attitude. No choice but to dig in. Each item had to pass the keep/toss/move test and fortunately, I was in a dumping mood so several items were sacrificed to the garbage gods.  Time to part with products that expired in '05.

I marched onward to the bookcase filled with a jumble of treasures, written and otherwise. My goal was to remove and dust all items, wash the shelves and toss any unloved items. Good idea. Bad match. It was like asking a junkie to clean a pharmacy. The task shouldn't have taken as long as it did but I found myself perusing through forgotten books, looking for favorite recipes, identifying branches in my family tree and talking to pictures of loved ones (creepy, I know). I cannot say the cleaning task was enjoyable but the trip down memory lane was a bonus. Sadly, I was unable to part with much from my bookcase so I will be touching the same stuff next year. Not all bad.

My carrot at the end of each cleaning task has been reading time so you are going to have to excuse me because I have a really good book that is calling my name. Look out sock drawer. You're going down.