Not too long ago, I was washing Emilio’s formula bottles and realized that I had unconsciously formed a little Bottlehenge in the sink, with all the bottles placed in a circle around the drain with their bent necks turned inward. The sight gave me occasion to reflect on my systematic dish-washing habits (I actually count the number of times I flush the scrubber up and down inside each soap-and-water-filled bottle) and I thought it might be interesting to hear about the dish-washing habits of those who read this blog.
Yes, I really did.
And so, by way of eliciting reflections from some of you on this fascinating subject (little everyday habits say a lot about a person, don’t they?), here are my dishwashing secrets:
I don’t know anybody who enjoys washing dishes—and Mari and I often leave dishes stacked up in the sink too long—but Mari and I have found that we don’t love washing dishes for different reasons. Mari doesn’t like washing the nipples of the bottles or washing silverware, for example, and she hates putting away dry dishes. I suspect she finds washing a bunch of little things (or putting them away) to be tedious. I, on the other, dislike tedium a lot less than I dislike greasiness, 
so I would much rather wash a bunch of small items than wash anything that might leave some kind of residue on my hands. Consequently, I have not adopted my mother’s practice of filling up one side of the sink with water and letting the dishes soak there, because I don’t want to put my hands into greasy/soapy dish water. Unfortunately, I waste a lot of water when I wash dishes. This is not something I’m proud of, but it is an indulgence I allow myself as a reward for doing dishes in the first place. I avoid using dishes at all, if I can help it, in order to avoid washing dishes. One of the reasons, I don’t cook more often is because I don’t like to wash dishes. Mari and I used to argue a lot about whose turn it was to wash dishes, but then we came up with (OK, I came up with) a marble-counting system in which each of us dropped a marble in a designated coffee mug for every five minutes they spent washing dishes. Since Emilio was born, we have abandoned this practice; I don’t know why. Mari washes more dishes than I do in a five-minute span, but I am much more systematic about stacking items on our dish-drying rack and can generally fit more dishes there than Mari can. When I wash Emilio’s bottle paraphernalia, I tend to line up all the liners and nipples, and tops and bottoms in neat little rows. One of my pet peeves is wet glasses that have been placed open-end down to dry. In my experience, this traps the moisture inside the glass and it smells bad later.
Blogger has been acting up lately, which has been a real bummer, but though the World Wide Web has not been receiving updates on sfb life in more than a week now, sfb life has, fortunately, continued its forward march. The highlight of the last week was last Wednesday's trip to the home of the happy Lewis clan. Though the youngest Lewis slept throughout our visit, he seemed to be sleeping happily. And though the canine Lewises spent our visit barking greetings (I think they were greetings) from the bathroom, the barks seemed happy, too. Jack told me to call him when we got to the corner near his house so that he could escort the Beagle Lewises to their bathroom corral. Later Mari asked me if he was doing that for Emilio's benefit or for mine. I told her I wasn't sure. It was, in either case, appreciated.
As an added bonus, before we left we got to see the Rangers come back from a 2-0 deficit against the Royals in the top of the 9th inning--thanks to some clutch hitting by my favorite Ranger: Gary Matthews, Jr.--courtesy of the J's MLB subscription plan.
When Mari got home from school on Monday, she and Emilio and I headed downtown again to the corncob hospital (aka Prentice Women's Hospital--see photo at right) to get another chance to see young Mr. Lewis. Before going, we had been apprised of the good news that N.W.'s blood sugar levels had stabilized and when we arrived he had been called up from the 3rd floor special care nursery to the 15th floor "less special" care nursery--a move which I likened to moving from AA to AAA ball. 
Julie was able to take Mari and I into the nursery at different times and we both got a chance to hold 'Than and see him wink and blink at us.
Jack told me on Monday morning that though he had assumed that Nathaniel would come to be called "Nate," his mother had wondered if they had ever thought of taking a note from Christopher "Topher" Grace's family and considered calling him "Than." The more Jack thought about it, the more he has grown to like the idea and when I asked Julie on Monday night, she said she liked the idea, too. So, until further notice, "Than" it is on this blogsite.
The good news for Tuesday is that Julie and Than were given medical clearance to come home (the Big Leagues) together and as of 7 p.m. or so this evening, Jack had successfully escorted his nearest and dearest to the House on Devon and the happy threesome and the happy Beaglesome (Molly and Katie) were all getting along swimmingly.
When I called Jack around 8 p.m. on Saturday night, Julie was having regular contractions, spaced about 15 minutes apart. At 1:45 a.m., Jack called back to say that they had checked into Northwestern-Prentice Hospital after taking a taxi downtown (apart from some pot holes along the way, the ride was smooth) and that Julie was getting an epidural. At about 7:45 a.m., Jack let us know that the doctor had sent him out to get breakfast so that he would be ready to coach Julie through the final push. 
And at 12:15 p.m. he called to say that a healthy, Nathaniel Weldon Lewis had been born, weighing 8 lbs., 8 oz., measuring 20.5 inches long, at 11:41 a.m.--almost the exact time that Emilio had been born 29 weeks and 3 days earlier. We were, of course, overjoyed and started to get ready to make a visit.
When Mari and Emilio and I got to the hospital at around 2:30 p.m., Julie and Jack were moving into a different room and Nathaniel had been transferred to the special care nursery, where nurses were attending to his low blood sugar (Emilio had the same problem--which is apparently common among big babies). After greeting Julie, we took Jack to lunch and then took turns scrubbing up so that we could get in to see the little fella. 
When I was in, the attending nurse was giving Nathaniel a bath, and when Mari went down, Jack got a chance to hold him. Although I am sure that Jack and Julie wished they could have had Nathaniel closer to them throughout the day, I suspect that they are confident that he is in safe hands and that every measure is being taken to ensure that their newest family member is as healthy as can be. I also think that knowing that Emilio dealt successfully with a similar blood sugar issue gives them some relief from worry. And this morning we got the news that his blood sugar levels have indeed increased.
We are thrilled that we got a chance to see the whole Lewis family on the big day; Jack and Julie both seem to be doing well and Julie expects to come home from the hospital on Tuesday. Please leave any notes of congratulations for the happy trio at the blogsite for the newest Lewis which Jack set up this morning!
Thanks to Ruth for the French flag pin which DHL delivered here yesterday and which will now ride with me around Chicago and beyond. As some of the readers of this blog know, I have been looking for some kind of French pin or patch to put on one of my backbacks since 2003 when the French people and their government loudly condemned U.S. plans to invade Iraq. The more the French were vilified here--remember the "Freedom Fries" movement?--the more I wanted to broadcast my own "Vive La France!" message. It was surprisingly difficult to find such a pin or patch, and I eventually gave up, but I mentioned the project to Ruth last summer and through the magic of E-Bay, almost a year later . . . Voíla! The sting may have worn off a little bit since the French have been proven so right on the Iraq question, but I will still wear it with gloating pride.
Not too long ago, I was washing Emilio’s formula bottles and realized that I had unconsciously formed a little Bottlehenge in the sink, with all the bottles placed in a circle around the drain with their bent necks turned inward. The sight gave me occasion to reflect on my systematic dish-washing habits (I actually count the number of times I flush the scrubber up and down inside each soap-and-water-filled bottle) and I thought it might be interesting to hear about the dish-washing habits of those who read this blog.
so I would much rather wash a bunch of small items than wash anything that might leave some kind of residue on my hands. Consequently, I have not adopted my mother’s practice of filling up one side of the sink with water and letting the dishes soak there, because I don’t want to put my hands into greasy/soapy dish water. Unfortunately, I waste a lot of water when I wash dishes. This is not something I’m proud of, but it is an indulgence I allow myself as a reward for doing dishes in the first place. I avoid using dishes at all, if I can help it, in order to avoid washing dishes. One of the reasons, I don’t cook more often is because I don’t like to wash dishes. Mari and I used to argue a lot about whose turn it was to wash dishes, but then we came up with (OK, I came up with) a marble-counting system in which each of us dropped a marble in a designated coffee mug for every five minutes they spent washing dishes. Since Emilio was born, we have abandoned this practice; I don’t know why. Mari washes more dishes than I do in a five-minute span, but I am much more systematic about stacking items on our dish-drying rack and can generally fit more dishes there than Mari can. When I wash Emilio’s bottle paraphernalia, I tend to line up all the liners and nipples, and tops and bottoms in neat little rows. One of my pet peeves is wet glasses that have been placed open-end down to dry. In my experience, this traps the moisture inside the glass and it smells bad later.
