Dishes

Dishes.

The ones pictured aren't mine.

But they sure are pretty.

My dishes have been with me since I was a freshman in college.

I bought them at an outlet store in Reading, Pennsylvania and put them in my hope chest.

And those plates that I would pull out and look at every so often- to give me hope that one day I would use them- are now always in my view.

The cycle begins like this.

They are neatly placed in the cabinet after being washed by hand or in the dish washer.

A meal is made and the table is set so the dishes find their way to the table.

The food is put on the dishes and we enjoy our meal as a family.

And then the dishes find their way to the sink where they are washed by hand if there is no room in the dishwasher.

Maybe it is because I was the dishwasher growing up, or because I find myself at the sink at least three times a day....

....maybe more....

....but I'm blessed that Brian has taken it upon himself to do the dinner dishes......

....that I always wonder when I watch homemaking shows that have the elegantly set tables with silverware and dishes for every thing under the sun......

....... who is the lucky soul who gets to wash all of those dishes?