Maytag Mutiny

I think I was meant to live in simpler times.  My (our) history with household appliances is rather tragic.  I don't know what it is, but we have a tough time keeping appliances as long as they should last.  When we moved here, we bought a front-loading washing machine.  It died after 4 years.  We bought another.  It died 5 years later.  My parents tell me that they've had their washing machine almost as long as I've been alive.  What do I do to jinx our washing machines?  I haven't put any pets or children in there, nor do I wash bricks or rocks with any frequency.

The garbage disposal whimpered to a low hum in the last year, so that was replaced around the same time as the washing machine.

The day after Good Friday (a rather busy time of the year for us), our water heater died.  It was pretty clear that it wasn't going to be raised to new life with Jesus that Easter morning.  Nor did it die to save the world from sin.  Instead, its death inspired sinful and colorful words on that already stressful Holy Saturday.  Luckily, some saints from our congregation helped Erik to install a new one, so we wouldn't have to go without hot water on Easter morning.                   

And now the dishwasher is dead.  Not dead, exactly, but close enough, unless you ascribe to the philosophy that if something is merely touched by water and soap, it's clean.  Our dishes are most certainly not clean.  Spoons come out looking so much like they did when they went in that we could probably identify who used it last, by the lip-marks in the thin layer of yogurt on it.  The wash cycle seems to only make leftover food cling more stubbornly to the plates, rather than washing it off.  And transparent glasses are now translucent at best.

We bought this new dishwasher about 7 years ago, when our dishes weren't getting very clean.  After we got it, we noticed cloudy dishes.  The repairman said, "The dishwasher can only do so much.  What you really need is a water softener."  So, much to my husband's chagrin, we got a water softener, which makes him feel slimier in the shower and leaves his skin feeling softer afterwards.  Oh, the horror!  :)

A year ago, tines started breaking off the lower dishwasher rack due to corrosion.  Argh.  I called the company to order a new rack.  Get this - a new dishwasher rack would cost over $200.  What?!  We said, "We'll deal with a few broken tines."  But now, it looks like we'll not only get a new rack, but a whole new dishwasher, unless we want to spend $300 for a new pump, in addition to labor costs.  And it won't arrive quite in time to do dishes for Sierra's birthday party on Sunday.  Yeah, that's about right.

Here's hoping our appliances are done being drama queens for a while.  I like meeting new people, but I'd rather not meet any more plumbers or appliance installers for a long time. 

No limp fish!

I met Ted Sprinkman about 25 years ago.  My friend Susan wanted to take tennis lessons from him, and she asked if I'd want to take them with her.  So one Saturday morning, her parents drove us to the tennis club, where we expected to significantly improve our skills.  I had a new racquet, and I was all ready to show Ted my stuff.  He walked up to me with his hand extended.  I shook his hand as I told him my name, and he groaned.  He shook Susan's hand and groaned again.  He said, "Put your racquets down.  You won't need them for a while.  The first thing I'm going to teach you is how to shake hands."  Susan and I rolled our eyes.  For the next 10 minutes, Ted did just that.  "Put your arm straight out.  Grasp my hand firmly.  Webbing-to-webbing.  No limp fish handshakes.  Why are you looking at the floor?  I want eye contact!  Always look the person in the eye when you're shaking their hand."  Susan and I thought it was the biggest waste of time ever.  What did this have to do with tennis?  But then Ted said, "Tennis is about mental strength as much as physical ability.  You start a match shaking hands, and in that 5 seconds, you communicate whether you're confident or not, and you can learn the same about your opponent, just from their handshake.  So what do you want people to learn about you when they shake your hand?  Do you want them to think you're insecure, weak, and apathetic?  Or do you want them to see your confidence, strength, and passion for life?" 

At the time, I thought Ted was kinda lame.  But as I grew up, I learned that he was absolutely right.  We communicate a great deal when we shake somebody's hand.  By a simple handshake, we can communicate confidence, professionalism, forgiveness, warmth, compassion, gratitude, or we can communicate the opposite of those things.  The choice is ours.

It was my first year as a pastor, and I was preparing a group of confirmation students for Confirmation Sunday.  I'd walked them through the service, and I lined them up in the Narthex, where they'd be greeted after the service.  Knowing that teenagers aren't always well-schooled in etiquette, I told them to be prepared to shake hands, and to be gracious to the people who came to congratulate them.  I shook one student's hand to demonstrate.  He looked at the floor as he put his limp hand in mine.  As I opened my mouth, Ted Sprinkman flew out, "No limp fish!  And I want eye contact!"  I quickly reigned in my inner tennis pro and gave all the students a handshake lesson.  "Grasp the person's hand firmly...no limp fish...no bone-crunchers...look the person in the eye...be prepared to shake lots of hands...smile...your cheeks will stop hurting eventually."  I remember at least 3 sets of parents came over and thanked me.  Since then, every time I do Confirmation rehearsal, I give the kids a handshake lesson.  They look at me like I'm lame or slightly crazy, but I'm hopeful that someday, they'll get it, and they'll realize "Crazy Pastor Jennifer" wasn't quite so crazy.

Ted Sprinkman would be so proud.