When we first bought our house we had to buy a washing machine, dryer, and refrigerator since the previous owners took theirs with them. The microwave, stove and dishwasher were all the same brand so that is what we chose to stick with. I am discovering things just don’t last like they did when I was kid. We had ONE vacuum and ONE refrigerator essentially my entire childhood. Now, as machinery and technology are becoming more sophisticated, I suppose there is more to break down. We were fixing our fridge to the point of it no longer being cost effective and I was fortunate enough to wander into a showroom where they were having an obscene (and legit) appliance sale. I took measurements, researched and finally allowed myself to admit I just loved the dark blue lights, the extra inside space, and the little ice cubes it made so perfectly. As a kid my job was having to pour the ice in the tray. For some inexplicable reason I DETESTED doing it and now I have an affinity for small ice as a consequence. I expected my husband to be thrilled. What I had not anticipated was the look of stunned disbelief my little one had as she threw open the French doors and simply stared up transfixed, mesmerized by all the LED lights illuminating our new refrigerator like something out of Las Vegas. “Mama, it’s like we have TWO refrigerators!” she said as she kept her huge eyes trained unwavering inside the doors. In the bottom freezer part I gave her the top drawer for all her gluten free food, I took the middle drawer and gave Daddy the big, deep drawer at the bottom. I found myself showing off its features like it was the “The Price Is Right”, accompanied by echoing “ooohs” from my little family. “And look! There’s a spare ice tray!” I found myself exclaiming. That will come in handy for our next party, which reminded me of some party we held at our house once and, as parties often seem to do, a lot of people were congregated in the kitchen. More aptly, they were congregated around the man tending bar in the kitchen. A woman we knew brought a guest and her boyfriend proceeded to crack on our fridge, carrying on about how tacky the magnets were. He was a guest in our home, freely availing himself of our alcohol and heavy hors d’oeuvres, and insulting the hostess. The ironic thing is, I grew up with Mama having magnets on her fridge and I promised myself when I moved out I was going to have a clean refrigerator devoid of any kitsch. And then when I got my first apartment Mama got me one little magnet with baby wolves as a housewarming present. I had my first wolf hybrid cub and it was one of the sweetest gifts she had ever given me. From then on I was attached. Those magnets tell the story of my life: with past pets, a childhood picture, my folks kissing on a train, and a token of all of our travels since we have gotten married. When I first got our new fridge it was so sleek and shiny. I found myself polishing it every two seconds because of the blasted fingerprints. Then I discovered it had to have its own cloth. I felt like I had just purchased a new pair of designer sunglasses only it required a lot more work. And then I realized I did not want to be a slave to an appliance; I wanted it to bring me pleasure. So my little one and my husband helped me put our familiar magnets up much like decorating a Christmas tree. American television producer Charlie Ebersol said this: “As long as you’re centering back to home base, and that’s the strongest magnet in your life, that everything else is okay.” Jesus Christ, my family, and my home are my magnet; I will not worry what others may think and I know that everything else will be OK.
