Banner Mountain Girl # 35 My Favorite Room

The Kitchen is my Favorite Room

Some writers say their favorite room is their writing room. I write in my office but it’s not my favorite room. I go there to write or to be alone. I can be sure I won’t be disturbed because I’ve had only one visitor in the several years I’ve been writing. One day, time slipped by as I worked on an article and my husband came in to ask what time dinner would be served. I no longer spend a lot of time in my kitchen — and my husband might not believe this — but my kitchen is my favorite room.

violets from my windowsill

African Violets bloom from my kitchen window which faces east, and that pleases me because they are supposed to thrive only in light from the north, and I don’t have a north window for violets. My kitchen window not only provides a shelf for potted plants, it also allows me to see the driveway which brings friends to my door.

Friends and family are important to me — like good books — and in my kitchen I like preparing foods and beverages for people. Their compliments are more rewarding than I deserve but it’s part of the reason why I like my kitchen.  I don’t like to clean my kitchen floor, but I like a spotless floor and when the floor is sparkling, I like my kitchen even better.

In the near future, I plan to remodel my kitchen. In its present state, it’s far from a picture model in Better Homes and Gardens. My husband is either lucky or unlucky that I have a sense of humor, because without it I would not have survived the many years of preparing meals from this kitchen. Without my sense of humor, my husband and I might have parted with this kitchen, or I might have parted with my husband, one of the two.

I realized I had a sense of humor when my son got married. Following tradition, I invited my son’s fiancé and her parents for dinner. Her mother stood in my kitchen talking about the wedding shower which was given in her hometown for the newlyweds-to-be.

“They received everything. Just everything,” she said, “except fine china.”

Oh, I thought, fine china. They must have fine china. As I opened my cabinet to get a pan, every piece of Tupperware I own came crashing out and spilled onto the floor. That’s when I laughed. Laughter costs a lot less than tears and I’m an economical person.

Today I changed two light bulbs in my kitchen. My husband would have changed them but it’s so easy to ask him to do that, I decided that changing the bulbs was more of a challenge than asking him, so I changed them. I hope this doesn’t prove I can get along without my husband, because I can’t. I need him, not only to compliment my cooking but also to proofread my novel.

It’s a romance and an exciting adventure for me. I hope it’s a best seller, but if not, I’ll try another category. From my favorite room, I’ll share a secret or two. Good cookbooks are always in demand.

cowboy stew simmers on stove

~© Freeda Baker Nichols

 

An Embarrassing Moment by Freeda Baker Nichols

Yard Sale Northern California May 2005. This i...

Yard Sale Northern California May 2005. This image is in the public domain. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My neighbor and I decided to have a three-day yard sale.  So we set up our tables and got out our stuff.  Some of my stuff, I had had for years, but much of it was in good condition, so I marked prices people couldn’t resist, or so I thought.  That way I could reach my objective of cleaning out my house and others might benefit by buying useful items at a reasonable cost.

My neighbor didn’t bother marking her items.  She pulled out boxes full of dishes and cookware and set other items on tables.  When customers found something they wanted, they asked her a price and she would say, 25 cents or 50 cents, etc.

My most embarrassing moment came when several customers were looking and browsing.  As they gathered things they wanted to buy, I sat on the porch deeply engrossed in conversation with my neighbor.  Then my husband called to me to tell me that a customer was ready to check out.  I went to the check-out table and quickly totaled up the items placed there by a very nice man.  I picked up a pair of sunglasses and said, “I think these are 25 cents.”  The man reached for them and said,  “They’re already mine.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said.

Talk about putting someone in a thimble, I would have fit quite comfortably.  I assured the man that I didn’t mean to do that.  He was good-natured and laughed along with everyone else.

Looking back at the incident, I’m sure I should have given him the items “on the house.”

Some people tried to get us to lower the prices. Some said we were selling too low after they had already bought things.

Some said our yard-sale signs were good and easy to follow.  Others said they were difficult to read.  After the long three days were over, my husband went to pick up the signs.  One sign was missing and presumably stolen.  Close by where it had been was a sign pointing to another yard sale in the opposite direction.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

Lost “Yard” Sales

They arrived at six
so they wouldn’t be late
though the sign plainly said
“We Open at Eight.”

A man with arms full
came over to pay.
He happily said,
“It’s a wonderful day.”

I reduced prices
on tires without tread.
“For the sunglasses,
a dollar,” I said.

“They’re already mine,”
he said with a shout.
My face felt bright red
as he whirled about.

He jumped in his Blazer,
sped off in a huff
and left me standing
with all of his stuff.

© Freeda Baker Nichols