The new kitchen cometh

We have started the kitchen remodel. The discordant sound of drills, hammers, compressors, and cursing is ongoing. The cabinets have been ordered, we need to fix our ski slope floor, the appliances have been here for a year. Big news—the dishwasher is out of its box and is installed! It’s in a temporary place, waiting for the new cabinets, but it works!

In anticipation of the new cabinets, I figured we could start to make a little progress. The first manageable task, installing electrical outlets and plumbing for the dishwasher and garbage disposal. It was an amazing feat, we brought the electrician and plumber to the house together, and voila’ we have a new breaker box for kitchen appliances inside the house, along with an operational dishwasher and disposal.

Now when Daniel cooks I won’t hyperventilate about all the plates, bowls, dishes, and utensils he uses, because I now have a working dishwasher! Then came the moment of truth! How to start the machine. So many options, and evidently you have to press some buttons (LED lights) to make cycle changes, or time changes. Evidently, you also have to hold these “buttons” down for so many seconds to make the change. Almost intimidating, but mostly frustrating, especially to me, because I don’t remember life before a dishwasher. We were the first in the neighborhood to have one.

My father was a plumbing contractor and he had numerous friends and connections in the plumbing supply business. In 1960 he bought my mother a dishwasher, a pretty big deal in those days. We were the talk of the neighborhood, all the women came by to ogle the newest and greatest kitchen appliance. It was pretty easy to operate; load the dishes, fill a little space with powder detergent, press “on” and wait about 2 hours to unload clean dishes.

As I’ve said before, I’m not a sentimental or reflective person, I don’t dwell on the past. I love gadgets and can’t wait to see the newest, latest, and greatest updated phones, iPods and computers. But, looking at my new dishwasher’s buttons and the instruction manual is daunting. I’m starting to reminisce about the one-button wonder and to appreciate its simplicity.

Although I stay clear of power tools and weaponry (too clumsy), I am usually pretty competent with machinery. Until four years ago, all of my cars had manual transmissions, I have driven 3-wheel ATVs, dirt bikes, and Jetskis. I was the person that had to set up all of my relatives’ telephone answering machines, their VCRs with color-coded buttons for “Play, Record, Rewind,” so a dishwasher will not defeat me! I will persevere and operate the machine like a professional.

I may actually have to swallow my pride and read the instruction manual, which appears to be just one chapter shorter than War and Peace. I have a slight aversion to reading manuals, borne of experience. Many years ago, my father bought my mother an anniversary gift; a microwave oven. Like the dishwasher, this was in the early days of the microwaves. It just so happened that my aunt was visiting from New York at the time. My mother and aunt were up until 4 a.m. cooking bacon, baked potatoes, and whatever else they could find in the house to cook. While reading the manual there was an obstacle, they couldn’t figure out what “FYI” meant, so they called me at 3 a.m. for clarification. Assuming someone died, I jumped at the phone and broke my toe. Maybe tomorrow I will silence my phone and read the manual, or just stick to using one “normal” cycle forever. (P.S., thank you Bill Rodgers for the dishwasher idea.)