a peek into my fridge

Because I love it.  There are a few other inanimate objects around here that I really love, but in the kitchen, it's my fridge.  I love it because it's a really nice fridge, much nicer than any fridge I've ever had before, but also because it's clean.

When we got the fridge a few years ago, I promised myself that I would keep it clean by taking everything out once a month, pitching the junk, and wiping down all the shelves and drawers.  I actually do this process with the entire kitchen on the last Sunday of the month.  We get takeout for dinner so I don't have to mess up my entire kitchen after scrubbing it down, and now I even get some help from Alex, who takes all the condiments and then hands them back to me once I'm ready to replace them.  His price?  A maraschino cherry.

I share this not because I think you'll care so much about the inside of my fridge, but in light of this post by Amy at A Commonplace Life.  Actually, there was another related post this morning at Small Notebook--and I remember reading some others recently (maybe here?)--so the theme is running through the minds of a lot of bloggers (kind of like the field posts from earlier in the fall).  In short, the post discussed perfection (or its appearance)--Amy put it, "posting only the lovely"--in the blog world.

Besides the pressure to share posts (and in great part, the photos that go with them) that show something prettytidy, and extra-interesting, she also mentions that blogging has helped her to become more mindful about her life and her days, about noticing "the lovely"--and I've also experienced this in the short time I've been blogging.  I am more likely to stop and photograph--or at least think about--events that might seem mundane.  But my reality is that though my life never looks like this, which is OK with me (and the author would agree, I'd guess), so I do find myself styling photos I take for the blog.  For every breadboard with a homemade loaf, there were fabric scraps, index cars, and trains--and maybe even some crumbs--to be moved out of the way for the picture.

Yesterday, the fridge really did look like this; I didn't change anything.  But I would certainly hesitate to show you the scene behind me as I shot that photo (my husband is breathing a sigh of relief right now, I'm sure).  Because though we don't want to hold ourselves or our readers to an impossibly-high standard, let's face it, nobody wants to look at a picture of someone's dirty kitchen for its own sake.  And I suppose I could wonder, too, whether the contents of my fridge will be up for scrutiny (our brand of beer?  Store-bought bread?  Pop?  A fast-food product?  Non-organic eggs?).

I'm looking forward to the series Amy is thinking of starting, working title: "less-than-perfect" because I'm hoping it will help me focus some on what I guess my eventual goal is: to have just a couple of pairs of darling shoes on my stairs, and a hall that's clear of stuff when my little guy runs through.  I'm guessing Amy didn't share the photo to inspire any feelings of inadequacy--that'd be counter to her point?  What I mean is that it (and my fridge, clean but imperfect) represents to me the balance I'm trying to find: posting interesting things but showing them the way that they really are, keeping my house organized because I'm more relaxed and we live a better life when I do, dealing with the clutter made by making, putting aside the making and the cleaning to enjoy these wee years with my son, sharing with the outside world without worrying about judgment, and being glad (as Rachel reminds us) that my life is full enough to generate fabric scraps, index cards, and trains.