Just now Landon lovingly called to me from the kitchen, "Hey Sheels, good job! You've managed to clean all but 6 dishes this time!"
Dish washing has been something that i've grown into tolerating these past 3 years. When we lived in Kenya and i had only been married (and only been cooking) for 7 months and everything was to be made from scratch and hot water had to be boiled and dishes had to be done :gulp: by HAND, the kitchen was my torture chamber.
When we got back to the States, i insisted that i could live ANYWHERE as long as it had 2 necessary things: carpet, and a dishwasher. And so our little apartment in Colorado Springs even had a fire place and backed up to a trail beside a stream - and wildly exceeded my hopes and expectations.
Now we live out here. With hot water as much as we'd like and a gas stove - that's a new treat. But we are lacking carpet and a dishwasher once again. Something about the lack of those things makes me feel like we are living a bit primitive. And once again i was back to washing dishes by hand. This isn't too bad, i know. but Landon and i actually are privileged to enjoy all 3 meals a day at our house usually so we tend to stack up the dishes (at least there's only 2 of us!). We're finally getting the discipline to do them almost daily and Landon has really contributed to sharing the dish-washing load this time.
When we first moved here, washing dishes was a real daily battle for me. I would be so frustrated by the time i was done and my hands were swollen and pruney. I had to begin to make it a time of prayer for me. I had to see dish washing as a way of serving my family thus serving God to get me through it - no kidding. It was such a struggle. Now, 20 months later, it's a piece of cake. I hardly think about it while i'm doing it. Evidenced mostly by my good mood toward my pruney swollen fingers, and the fact that 1 of every 10 dishes has to be re-washed by the sweet Mr. McBrayer.
Some people despise certain house-hold chores. There are only two that I have always had a hard time with: mopping, and dish washing. Though i have finally waved a white flag to the dirty dishes and especially have learned to enjoy them with a glass of wine or a bottle of beer, i can't imagine learning to tolerate mopping. Whenever i do clean the floors, we don't even use a mop (we don't even OWN a mop) and instead i use a wash cloth and crawl around on all four's scrubbing out the dirt. Maybe that's why i hate it so. blech, i don't actually want to talk about it.
but look at me, though i'm lousy at dishes, i'm finally becoming domesticated enough to do them often and without resentment. that's a feet!
he walks the streets of San Francisco and sees people who are destitue, takes a seat beside them, gets to know their story, becomes their friend, and takes their picture. Each picture in his gallery has the story of the person in the portrait. 
It is a beautiful compilation and i am really "enjoying"(in quotes because it's actually really heart-wrenching to read a lot of it, but it's so moving that it is meaningful = enjoying) looking through each picture and getting to know these people. 
