Space

 I am worried. 

My children just cleaned the kitchen--
without me asking them.  Perhaps it's a sign of the 

You know it's official when it's written on a bus

apocalypse.  "The Rapture" is apparently only 6 weeks away, and they must be making amends in preparation for the second coming. 

Before this fox-hole conversion, a request to clean the kitchen was grounds for civil unrest.  Even the mere thought of having to empty the dishwasher could prompt protests that would rival those of the Mid-East.  But today. Today my children have cleaned the kitchen, and as best I can tell there isn't a failed test or an incomplete homework assignment lurking in a backpack.  All my crystal is in tact.  In short, there is simply no basis, reason, or rationale for the pristine kitchen that awaited me when I got home from work. 

Julia's Clutter

It's a mystery, but some mysteries in life should simply be enjoyed rather than analyzed.  This is one of them because a clean kitchen is pure joy.  It the proverbial tabula rasa that launches the creative spirit.  I don't necessarily believe in big kitchens, although there are some that I do secretly covet.   One of my friends, for example, has this ultra-uber-Viking-applianced kitchen that features an amazing ping pong table-sized granite island.  You could slaughter a cow on that island and still have room on the side for your guests to sit and nibble from a cheese platter.  It's simply wonderful.   But in the end all you really need is some clear uncluttered space.  Even Julia Child, whose kitchen was famously cluttered with all the pots and knives literally hanging from every square inch of space on the walls, had a butcher block that was nothing but butcher block. 

Making a space of one's own should really be the first step in every recipe.  Make yourself some space to cook.  Make it a space where you will happily stand for hours--a place to recharge.  Make it a space where you can rest a glass of wine and crank up your radio.  Make sure it's a space where you can be surrounded by those you love.  Forget about the Rapture.  Make your kitchen a space where you can celebrate life's everyday mysteries--where against all odds and years of bad experience an Irish soda bread rises into golden perfection, and where petulant children will one day suddenly reveal themselves to be people who will clean the kitchen without being asked.