Dishwashers Wanted. Apply Within.

My dishwasher (here I am referring to the actual kitchen appliance, and not the DDD- Designated Dish Doer) was making my dishes smell like dog bowl water. You know the smell I'm talking about. It's a lot like pond water smell, or that dead earthworms on the rainy sidewalk smell. I googled and googled, and we took apart all the hoses, and arms, and spinning water contraptions, and finally came to the conclusion that it was something in our city water, because it happened cyclically, and other residents would also complain about it. So when it's dog bowl season, I add bleach to the dishwasher and that appears to help.
Then I discovered another problem with my dishwasher; dirty dishes. It got to where I couldn't tell if the load in the dishwasher was clean or dirty, because there was still food on the plates and bowls. I even accused a kid of putting their dirty dish in the dishwasher while clean dishes had not yet been put away. So I googled again. I learned about phosphates. I learned about enzymes. I read lots of conflicting info: "Dishwashers these days have a food disposer, so it's not necessary to rinse your dishes", vs "The so-called food disposer in your dishwasher is a joke. Any plumber will tell you that they are not designed to actually handle food". I learned "The enzymes in today's detergents need something to 'digest', so leave some food on the plates" vs "The enzymes work well, but you don't need to 'feed' them; they are not pets".
I began washing my dishes on 'pots and pans' cycle. That helped for a while. I took out the arms and cleaned them well. No difference. I tried switching detergents, and none seemed to work.
Then I discovered a new technique for getting my dishes clean. First, I scrape off all food and then soak the dishes in hot water for a couple hours. Next, I load them into the dishwasher, add detergent, select 'pots and pans', and run the dishwasher. An hour later, I return to the finished load of dishes and peek inside. Clean dishes! Now, this technique does not remove things like "milk ring" on the bottom of a drinking glass, pancake syrup off plates, lip streaks off spoons, peanut butter off a knife, or melted ice cream from an ice cream scoop. It will not remove yogurt from a bowl. It will not remove rings of coffee and hot chocolate from a mug. It will not remove bacon grease or smoothie residue. Just now, I swiped the dusty film of cinnamon from a measuring cup right out of the dishwasher. Yes, cinnamon! But for those items, I just plop them back into the blistering hot wash water in the sink, and with a healthy dose of Dawn and elbow grease, those dishes come out sparkling! I'm so glad I discovered this trick to cleaner dishes!

Baking Season

When I get into a baking mood, no one is safe. Cakes, pies, cookies, brownies, muffins, breads... I churn them out as fast as my oven can produce a golden flaky crust. At first my family thinks it's wonderful, all these goodies for them to snack on,  that I'm always in the kitchen, and available to chat. Then they realize I'm always in the kitchen... wanting to chat. Good grief, they only wanted a drink of water.
I've seen them reverse course and drink from the bathroom tap instead.
My friends think it's wonderful, when I show up to every social function with a plate of cookies, a pie, or a loaf of quirky artisan bread. Until I bring all the above, for a gathering of three people. "Take it to work with you, your co-workers will love it!" I say, as I skip out unburdened, racing home to try a new recipe, leaving their table weighed down with carbs galore.
I realized how bad it had gotten when I made several dozen chocolate chunk espresso brownies. And my daughter Sadie came in to tell me goodbye, because she was heading off to work.

Me: "You work with people, take some brownies!"
Sadie: "I barely know them. It would be weird."
Me: "What better way to make friends! I'll put some in a container."
Sadie: "No, I don't have time. I'm out the door."
Me (calling out): "No, look! I've already found a lid! Look! They're almost ready!"
Sadie (from the door): "Too late! Bye! I love you!"

Sadie was in her car pawing through her purse for her keys when the front door to the house opened.
She was unprepared for the horror walking out through that door.
There was her mother, in a SuperMom apron, holding a container of brownies.
The sweet loving smile on her mother's face was too much.
She was like a zombie. A brownie baking Mommy zombie.
The world moved in slow motion.
"Keys. Now."
She was getting closer.
"Keys!"
Closer.
"KEYYYYSSS!!"
Her mother was now next to the car. Sadie was out of time, out of options.

Sadie opened the car door.
Me: "Glad I caught you."
Sadie: "Yeah, I was trying to find my keys."
Me: "See? It worked out. Enjoy the brownies!"
Sadie: (deep sigh) "Thank you. I love you."

Schnoz Full of Grey Water- Not a Fan

The kids' bathrooms are upstairs, above my bathroom. This means that each time they forget to put the shower curtain inside the tub while they shower (an honest mistake), or plug up the sink with toilet paper and leave the water running full blast and flood the house (I'm not naming names, here, but the resulting body of water was called Lake Tessa), my bathroom gets the worst of it. With their brown water stains, my ceiling tiles look like those of an inner-city crack house. I plan to replace them all, once the kids are grown. By then,  Lowe's will have had plenty of time to discontinue this particular style, and I'll have to completely redo the ceiling.
For the last month, I've noticed a new water mark on one of the tiles over the tub. Each day, it got bigger, from some leak upstairs. I asked various kids to check that there wasn't water pooling on the floor from their bathroom, but no one could find the source. It had to be from a pipe. A couple days ago, I took a picture of the wet ceiling tile and sent it to Ron.
This morning, I heard someone get in the shower upstairs and within a minute I heard the "plit-plit-plit" of water dripping onto my bathroom floor. I bolted from my bed and saw the same ceiling tile, soggy and bowed from water, dripping. I climbed up onto the edge of the tub to take a peek above the tile. I carefully lifted the edge of the tile from the metal track and lowered it about an inch. I was not prepared at all for the deluge that immediately struck my face. Between the ceiling and floor above, Ron had stapled plastic sheeting, to catch the occasional drips. This plastic had been slowly filling up, and the dampness on the ceiling tiles was merely the overflow. When I dropped the tile down, all this "grey water" rushed to the (now) free edge of the plastic, a direct hit to the face- it drained into my mouth, up my nose, into my eyes, and I fell backward off the tub and cracked my head. All I could do was lie there and watch as gallons of murky water poured from the plastic sheet funnel all over my bathroom. Some of it landed in the tub, but the majority hit the edge of the tub and splattered in every direction. And, since whomever had gotten into the shower moments earlier was still showering, the water just kept raining down.
I got up, peeled my clothes off, grabbed extra towels and threw them on the worst of it.
I sent a text to my daughter (I realize now not the most effective way of communicating with a showering person) that her shower was officially broken, and not to use it anymore.
I posted on my facebook wall, "(My daughter's) super 'neti pot' treatment has made me forget all about my cold!". My daughter's friend responded, "Use distilled water or you could get a brain eating amoeba up tharrrr, but that's probably not likely."