Our dishwasher broke at 1pm on Thanksgiving Day. We had just cleaned up the lunch dishes. The dishwasher was crammed full and it was time to run it and clear the decks for some serious sidedish prep craziness involving all the cousins, my mom, and myself. Now what?
Every year we host Thanksgiving for my family. My cousins arrive from New Jersey and Ohio. My little brother and his family fly in from New Mexico. My parents travel over from Lancaster, and long-time friends from Germany come up from Maryland to celebrate. Everyone contributes to the meal. We’re a family of foodies, so it’s a busy, crazy, loud, happy day in my kitchen. And the dishwasher is a critical piece of the pie (so to speak).
My husband and my brother, both engineers, analyzed the situation. I headed to the barn to saddle horsesand take some of the kids on a trailride, confident that my superman-fix-anything-hubby would have everything sorted out by the time I came back.
We had a cold but beautiful ride and I arrived back ready to jump into negotiations over oven time and temperature, pan distribution, and a million questions that began with, “Where is the….”. Instead I found my cousin elbow deep in suds. No dishwasher and 21 for dinner.
I’m sure you’re all thinking the same thing.