BUBBLE, BUBBLE, BOIL OUR TROUBLES FOR A MONTH

There is a new personality in my kitchen with which to mumble and grumble about our national problems. That is, if you can attribute personality to an inanimate object. She's a kitchen witch, rather large, as if she's been into the cookie jar at night or when I'm away. And I think she is a rich witch (Please make no printing errors here) since her clothes are all of fine black silk, including her tall conical hat. Her face is green outstanding because of the long, hooked nose, complete with pea sized wart on it. Her small black eyes resemble shoe buttons. What! You never saw a shoe button!

Of course she has a broom. It's more like a mop though, since it's made of think felt strips instead of straws. I wonder if there is a caste system among witches. Some ride broomsticks; others ride mop handles? Suburus vs. Corvettes?

Such a kitchen witch is usually positioned on a wall in a flying position, her black cape flowing out behind. Mine, I have set on the side of the refrigerator with her fat legs dangling down. Since her fat legs, plump derriere and XL stomach tells me she likes to eat, I'm going to give her sole charge of the refrigerator and its contents. And I don't care how much she eats from its insides so long as she throws out eggs that have expired, cucumbers that have become soft and mushy, potato salad that has soured, any left-over casserole that has grown a new layer of unidentifiable stuff on top, rotten apples and milk that is one minute past the expiration date on the inky notice. Not that I don't use the milk myself in cornbread or such when it is only one or two minutes past the expiration date, but when my children (I make it plural to include the family) see the expiration date ten seconds overdue and find the carton still in my refrigerator, they practically run out the back door and head for the safety of their home, leaving me, I guess, to expire from expired milk.

Then there's the grill at the bottom of the refrigerator that I want the witch to attend to on account of the cervical, dorsal, lumbar, sacral and coccyx sections of my backbone. Oh, 'dem bones! That grill must be removed from time to time to remove dust that has accumulated and so that you can slip in the slender attachment to the vacuum cleaner and swoosh out as much dirt as you can without getting any of the insulation, bolts, nuts, springs, belts or fans aborted. Lots of things behind that grill. Just get down and look if you can. Then get up again if you can.

There's the top of the refrigerator my witch must attend to. I'm going to call her witchteria hereafter. Why is the dust on the top of the refrigerator somewhat more greasy whereas elsewhere it is dust that will fly around, given a slight breeze? Sometimes it takes a Mr. Clean-soaked rag instead of just a dust cloth for this task, maybe even a little Bar Keepers Friend. Of course before you get down to the dust there are things to remove. The top of a refrigerator, if not built-in, seems the handiest place to put something temporarily, temporarily not being defined as impermanent or transient. There are the plastic place mats you've just used and plan to use again right soon, the crockpot you've no room for elsewhere, the old family cookie jar you don't want any children, rushing through the kitchen, to break.

The back of the refrigerator, next to the wall! Who cares? When something goes wrong and you have to call the repair person then you can swoon. You can stand swooning maybe every two years. Ladies swoon.

I may be all wrong about the properties of a kitchen witch. Maybe they are only reminders that if you don't keep your kitchen clean you will be transported in time back to Salem.

Since this is the so-called "year of the woman" let me ask why, down through the ages, witches were always thought of as women? I'm gonna remind Bella, Betty, Gloria and Eleanor of that and see if the citizenry can branch off from the mainstream topics of economy, debt, deficit, taxes, health insurance, down into some little sideroads such as where do you suppose Cotton Mather went after encouraging 19 supposed witches to be hanged and if Saul's death was really the result of his consulting with the Witch of Endor.

Might as well hash over old things until Nov. 3 when we'll have some new things to talk about such as what kind of witchcraft will be employed to fulfill all promises made and fix every new situation that arises. In the meantime Witchteria and I will mumble and grumble while the pots boil and bubble.

REJOICE!