Turning a Bedroom into a Guest Room

This week is all about plugging along… After two weeks of illness, I’ve got to push and prod myself every step of the way to get these chores done. That said, I’m starting to feel a bit of the ol’ rhythm when it comes to my morning and evening routines. My ironing got done yesterday - all except for a blouse I forgot about that had been drying in the bathroom - and I did a little marketing this evening. My aunt is in town for a conference, and my sister and I will be making dinner for her tomorrow night. At my sister’s house, thank goodness! I may have made some progress in housekeeping since November, but my home is still far from ready to do any entertaining. At any rate, that means I’ll need to push my weekly bedroom cleaning forward to Friday evening and my new mission to Saturday morning.

It’s been a while now since I cleaned my bedroom, and I’m actually looking forward to putting it back to rights. Since I don’t have all that much in the way of news this evening, I thought I’d share this wonderful description of how the ideal guest room should be furnished from Lily Haxworth Wallace’s New American Etiquette (1941). I think we all deserve to feel as good as we’d try to make a guest feel in our homes. How do your bedrooms measure up to the ideal guest room?

Bedrooms should be liberally equipped with lights. The central bulb should operate from a switch that can easily be reached on entering the room. There should be a bed light, two, if the room has twin beds. A lamp should be above the sofa or chaise longue for reading. The bed and sofa lights should operate on individual switches.

The room should have shutters and shades so that every bit of the early morning sun can be kept out of the room if one likes to sleep late in complete darkness.

The bed or beds should be comfortable and should be well equipped with sheets, blankets (plenty of them), and a quilt. There should be two pillows, one hard and the other soft. There should be a bed light over each bed to satisfy those who like to read themselves to sleep.

Any bells for calling servants should be placed so that they can be sounded without getting out of bed.

There should always be a bedside table on top of which there should be an accurate alarm clock. The table should also hold a small tray with a glass and spoon, a thermos bottle of cold water, and a hot-water bottle or electric pad. A flashlight or candle should be beside the bed for service in the event of a breakdown in the house lighting supply.

The closet should not be the storage space for miscellaneous articles. It should have sufficient shelves and hangers for all the clothes it will hold. There should be hat stands for the women and trouser hangers for the men. Shoe trees should be amply supplied. If riding is a practice, there should be a bootjack.

There should be at least one lounging chair in the room and a sofa with comfortable cushions. They should be so placed that the light from the window is right for reading. A lamp should be near by for night reading.

A dressing table should be so placed that it receives satisfactory light from the window during the day and should have lights properly arranged for use after dark.

In the days of midsummer an electric fan is a welcome addition to the equipment of a hot room.

Mirrors should be in as many places as possible. There should be at least one of full length and the others should be placed so that they are at the proper height and receive good light.

A writing desk should be equipped with note paper, envelopes, ink, pens, pencils, stamps, blotters, and a calendar. Beside it there should be a waste basket.

Housework and Childcare

The last few days have been frazzled ones. My niece (I'll call her Kitten) has been sick with a virus since the day her mother left. Poor thing! My brother-in-law and I took her to the emergency room last night as we were getting really worried about dehydration, but the doctor told us she was in good shape and the virus would just have to run its course. We just have to keep finding creative ways to get her to drink, drink, drink. And with a toddler - even with a low energy level - the last thing they want to do is be in the dreaded bed, so she's still up and about. I've been trying to find lots of quiet things we can do indoors. Just this morning, I'm starting to feel a little peaked, so I'm afraid I've caught the virus myself and won't be of much help in a day or two.

The first evening I was there, Kitten was still feeling pretty good. As I tried to wash up the dinner dishes while she was playing in the living room, I couldn't help thinking about housework as it relates to childcare. Mothers of small children really have to be quite creative and flexible in order to get anything done. It seems to be all about corraling them where you can watch them long enough to do a few dishes here, a load of laundry there. Naptime or bedtime seems like it would be a great time to get things done, but Kitten's nursery is on the same floor as the kitchen and living room, so I don't want to make too much noise until she's sound asleep. (It'll sound too much like there's some party she's missing!) Besides, I found myself taking a nap at naptime yesterday.

The manual mentions children frequently. The authors recognized how important it was in designing or redesigning work spaces that mothers be able to keep an eye on their children at all times. "One end of the kitchen, away from dangerous areas near the range, can sometimes be reserved for play space." Here, a "low cupboard" could be set aside for toys or "cooking equipment" with which children might safely play. They encouraged mothers to find housekeeping tasks that children could help with even when it made the job a bit longer:

Small children are always intrigued by the work that is done in the kitchen. Almost invariably they want to "help," and if this urge is understood and valued, the children will find tremendous satisfaction in cooperative work, besides feeling "wanted," which is important to happy family relationships. Then, too, the educational value of guided cooperative work is an important factor in child training.

The laundry room is also a space where mothers had to spend a significant amount of time before the process was better automated. An "enclosed play space" was recommended for this room so that babies and toddlers could amuse themselves under Mother's watchful eye. Older children could play outdoors, but a window should look out on the yard so that Mother could keep an eye on them, too.

A whole chapter is dedicated to furnishing rooms for children - from nurseries for infants to rooms for adolescents. The authors of the manual advise their readers, though, that children should spend most of their time with the family. By the 1940s, the age of nannies and governesses was long gone in the U. S., and mothers were expected to be the primary caregivers for their youngest children. Living rooms should also contain "child centers":

"A table, chairs, and shelves for toys and games can be assembled inexpensively..."

Here, on my own child-less home front, I've been getting along pretty smoothly. I moved Thursday's cleaning-of-the-bedroom to Friday evening. It occurred to me while dusting that it's no coincidence the manual instructs the housewife to dust everything before vacuuming. All that dust that's been building up on surfaces high and low should be lightly settled on the carpet before it's vacuumed. I also realized that my dust rag didn't get near as dirty this week as it did last week. If you're dusting your bedrooms every week, your cleaning materials will be easier to wash themselves.

I didn't plan my morning very wisely yesterday and ran out of time before making my bed. When I got home from the hospital, I was feeling so blue I skipped the evening routine entirely, but I wasn't too blue to notice how much it crapped to be climbing into an unmade bed. It's amazing how quickly I've become accustomed to that little luxury!

Week Eleven: The Mission

I'm venturing into the hardest part of housekeeping for me: cleaning. Straightening up is one thing, laundry - you can't get away without doing that --- but cleaning is a whole new ballgame. It's always been something I do sporadically. When I get a burst of energy, when I've got guests coming over, when I just can't stand it any longer. This week's mission - and the missions for the next several weeks - are going to be super challenging.

Now, the authors of the manual suggest that the '40s housewife give each room in the house a daily cleaning shortly after breakfast. Once a week, she should return to each room and clean it more thoroughly. (The day of the week doesn't matter very much, but they do recommend once in passing that bedrooms and bathrooms be cleaned on Thursdays.) Since I work outside the home full time, I'm not going to be able to clean every room on a daily basis. My plan is to hit each room once a week and fold the daily and weekly chores into one.

This week - the bedroom. (There's only one in my place.) On Thursday evenings. The manual walks its readers, step by step, through daily and weekly cleaning routines for every room. I've blended the bedroom routines together and typed 'em up below. There are also several steps marked "if necessary" and "when necessary." What I've decided just for now is to skip those extra items while I work to make cleaning a habit. This is going to be a battle supreme with my inner slob, and I don't want to make things any harder on myself than necessary! So here it is - a barebones once-a-week housekeeping routine for the bedroom:

1. Remove all bed covers; stretch over end of bed, or over chairs, off the floor. Remove soiled bed linen; place near door to be taken out. Place mattress pad over chair near window to air.

2. Collect lamp bases, bric-a-brac and dressing table fittings that need polishing or washing, and dresser scarves to be laundered.

3. Bring in cleaning equipment: vacuum cleaner and attachments, dust mop, cleaning basket, dust cloth, damp cloth. Bring in fresh bed linens.

4. Turn mattress end for end. Make bed.

5. Brush draperies (or use brush attachment of vacuum cleaner). Dust mirrors, pictures, lighting fixtures, lamps, woodwork.

6. Dust radiators (covers and coils) or registers. Brush baseboard or use brush attachment of vacuum cleaner.

7. Remove cushions from upholstered furniture. Use brush attachment of vacuum cleaner on furniture (getting into all crevices) and cushions. Replace cushions. Straighten covers. Plump up pillows.

8. Dust furniture. Rub wood surfaces of furniture to polish. Wash glass table tops.

9. Use vacuum cleaner for cleaning of rugs and carpets.

10. Polish or wash accessories and return to place with other objects removed during cleaning.

11. Final touches: Straighten draperies, shades, curtains, etc. Take out cleaning equipment and waste basket. Bring back clean ash trays, accessories, flowers and waste basket. Close windows if desired.

Woman's Dilemma

LIFE magazine teamed up with Bloomingdale's in June 1947 to arrange for a couple of photographs to illustrate a piece called "Woman's Dilemma." I haven't seen the article itself, but it must have had something to do with the question of working inside the home vs. outside. Anyway, the photographs are pretty impressive. Here's the caption:

Housewife Marjorie McWeeney ironing amidst symbolic display of her week's housework at Bloomingdale's store incl. 35 beds to be made, 750 items of glass & china, 400 pieces of silverware to wash, 174 lbs. of food to prepare, some of 250 pieces of laundry on a line, & a ringer washing machine.

Week's End

It's been more than a week now since I started my last mission, but I'm getting ready to start the next, so thought it'd be a good time for a little wrap up. First, the eats. This is the first of the menus in the front of the cookbook:

Orange Juice
Hard-cooked Egg
Graham Muffins

Have you ever worked with graham flour before? It's kind of a happy medium between wheat bran and your generic sack of flour. One of the side effects of these vintage breakfast menus is that my pantry is becoming quite well stocked with different varieties of flour. Regular, wheat bran, buckwheat, graham flour... Thank goodness there's a grocery store here in town that keeps a great selection of Bob's Red Mill in stock! I wanted to make sure the Graham Muffins didn't turn out as dry as the Corn-meal Muffins a few weeks ago, so I added an extra tablespoon of vegetable oil to the recipe. And it helped. They were much softer than the Corn-meal Muffins. I had no idea what they'd taste like - visions of Golden Grahams were dancing through my head - but they just tasted kinda wheaty.

It was a good breakfast. And wonder of wonders, I had everything ready for the table at the same time! That's the kind of magic only experience can help a housewife work. I had to crow about it when I got to work today. But my co-workers didn't get why it was so exciting. I think most of the people I've told about what I'm doing - at least the breakfast part - don't really understand why. Why would I bother baking on a weekday morning? Why not just eat a protein bar or a bowl of cold cereal? It's not like I have kids to make breakfast for. Or a husband to impress. It's as if they think the skills I'm trying to cultivate are outdated and unnecessary. We've moved past needing a hot, yummy, nutritious breakfast or something.

Obviously, I don't think that's the case. But what's kind of nice is hearing that contrast. It makes me realize why I feel so good sitting down to a swell breakfast or crawling into a bed that's neat as a pin at the end of the day. I feel like I'm treating myself like a queen. Which I deserve! I haven't done that in a long time. And there's something about making my home a palace that makes me feel awfully good. So it's not just pride at work here. I would love to have found Mr. Right and to be making a home for my husband and children, but if that's not in the cards... I need to make a home for myself.

Making my bed every morning has quickly become one of my favorite chores. It's so much easier with the bed moved out from the wall in my bedroom. There's instant payoff when you step back and admire everything tucked in just so and the pillows plumped. I can't wait to be able to invest in some bed linens and blankets, maybe a fantastic vintage chenille bedspread, new pillows. Even if they mean it'll take a little bit longer to make my bed! Bedmaking is especially nice when I'm not completely in a rush and running out the door.

It's been interesting to learn a little something new about laundry. Though the process today is so different, the manual has made me appreciate how arduous Wash Day was circa 1945. It was hard on the muscles (so little of the work was actually automated), rough on the hands, and used a ton of water. I'll bet women consciously planned easier menus for Monday evenings just to give themselves a little less work after a long day over the wash tubs. And socializing on Monday nights. Forget about it! It wouldn't have been possible unless you had one of those new fully-automated postwar washing machines. Or a maid. And if you were able to afford hired help one day a week, it'd be Mondays.

Kitchen Chemistry

What simple luxury it is to make a bed which isn't wedged in against the wall! I was tickled pink to find yesterday's hard work paying off today, and boy does it make me want to buy some lovely vintage bedding. Just to show off my newly-acquired bedmaking skills. I put my ruler back to work this morning and carefully measured off 18 inches from the head of the bed to decide where to fold back the top sheet. My mom still makes beds the way the Good Housekeeping manual recommends: folding down the bedspread, laying the pillows on top of the upside-down portion of the bedspread, then rolling everything back into place. It makes that crease at the bottom of the pillows which looks so streamlined.

I knew this morning's menu was going to be a toughie, so I got started on the dough for the Yeast Cinnamon Rolls last night:

Sliced Orange
Hard-cooked Egg
Yeast Cinnamon Roll (from stored dough)
Coffee

My 1945 recipe only measures yeast in cakes. Fortunately, the packets of "dry yeast" I purchased had a conversion formula printed on the back. 3 packets = 1 cake of yeast. I can't remember the last time I made any kind of raised dough, so my kitchen felt like a chemistry lab as I set to work softening the yeast in warm water and scalding milk in a pan. This was at about 6:00 yesterday evening. By 6:20, the dough had been kneaded and set in a covered bowl in a warm-ish spot to rise. Two hours later - nothing. The dough was still the same size it had been when I placed it in the bowl. My heart sinking, I checked my cookbook for tips - nothing there except the suggestion that I had probably killed the yeast. So I looked around online and luckily came across a website with step-by-step instructions - and photos - on making a raised bread dough. At the very bottom of the screen was just what I had been hoping to find:

"Bread Problem Solving

1. What if it doesn't rise?
Your liquid was most likely either too hot or too cold and you've killed the yeast. Don't despair, this bread can still be saved! Dissolve 1 tablespoon yeast and 1 teaspoon of sugar in 1/2 cup very warm water (110°F). Mix in 1/2 cup all purpose flour. Let this mixture stand in a warm place for about 10 minutes. It will turn foamy and spongy. Beat this mixture into your un-risen dough then knead in enough flour to correct the consistency. Cover this dough and place it back in a warm place to rise. Proceed as normal."

http://www.fabulousfoods.com/index.php?option=com_resource&controller=article&article=19904&category_id=223&Itemid=&pagenum=1

Thank goodness. Whoever put this website together saved my dough! And this morning's breakfast. My "lab" looked like a hurricane had swept through it by the time I took the Cinnamon Rolls out of the oven at midnight, but at least I didn't have to throw away the ingredients. I can't imagine how a housewife during the war must have felt if her dough didn't rise - or "lighten," as the cookbook describes it. Throwing away rationed ingredients must have felt so unpatriotic. Then again, she'd probably have been working with yeast-raised dough since she was a teenager.

Chain Reaction

Instead of flinging myself headlong into the next mission, I’m going to give this last one a few more days. Days like yesterday - where the old chaos sneaks up on me and my routine takes a hit - are probably a sign that I need to continuing working away at making the chores I’ve already assigned myself more habit than mission.

And though what happened yesterday is more the result of poor planning when it comes to marketing, the manual does have some advice for the 1940s housewife keen on spending less time making beds: “Are beds set away from the walls so that you can make them easily?” My answer: “No.” My one bed is wedged right into the corner of my bedroom - mainly so that I can have the look of as much free space as possible in there. My bedroom isn’t very big, but I find myself constantly leaving the closet door open so that the room will feel a little bigger. (It’s a walk-in closet so adds quite a big of “space” to my bedroom.) I do hate trying to make hospital corners on the side of the bed that’s right up against the wall. Hey, maybe with a bed that was a little easier to make, I would have been able to do both that and hit the mailbox yesterday morning! I’m changing it around right now…

Well, with the bed moved around, my computer most decidedly didn’t fit in my bedroom any longer. So I did what I’ve been thinking about for several months now - moved the computer into my living room. And while I was doing that, figured I may as well dust the thing and vacuum where my bed used to be. Talk about a chain reaction. One chore creating many. But all for the best. My bedroom feels a little more spacious. I’m going to have a much easier time making it up in the mornings. And my computer feels like it’s in a good spot.

The Good Housekeeping Housekeeping Book (1947) offers up some vintage tips on bedmaking that might come in handy:

To keep the blankets clean and away from the sleepers face, turn the top down over the blankets about 18 inches or so.

To get a “finished” look, here is the way to fit the spread over the pillows. Make a crease through the center of the pillow with your arm out straight and roll the pillow over in half. Place the pillow on the turned-down portion of the spread and roll it back into its position on the bed, where it will cuddle into shape straight and smooth.

A third sheet on top of the blanket gives protection and warmth, but it does take extra time and extra laundering, so it’s up to you to decide its worth. However, it always is desirable when there is illness or eating in bed, because it’s much easier to launder a sheet than to launder a blanket.

Turning down the beds for the night is a gracious gesture. Remove the spread, plump up the pillows, and turn back the blankets and top sheet across the bed.

Catch-up Time

It's high time for one of those lil' bit of everything kinda posts - a catch-up post. The Great Housekeeping Experiment has left me curious about lots of things along the way, and I wanted to report on some of the things I've discovered.

First of all, my decision to straighten up the living room just before going to bed at night seems to work really well for me right now. I haven't forgotten to do it in quite some time, and having that extra few minutes in the morning for bedmaking has come in handy. For now, it works nicely. I'm not sure that'll be the case as I add more chores to my housekeeping schedule. The evenings may become a little more busy. Well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Remember that article on "eating to reduce" in a vintage copy of Good Housekeeping? I was curious about the portions I've been eating and how they compare to 1945 diet advice. According to the magazine, a standard size portion of cereal (suitable only for the men and teenaged boys in your family) was 2/3 cup. Women, teenaged girls and children should have a slightly smaller portion. A few days ago, Malt-O-Meal was on the menu at breakfast, and I prepared one serving according to the instructions on the package. When the cereal was finished cooking, it turned out to be 3/4 cup. Larger than even the serving size recommended for men and growing boys! I think I'll try cutting the size of the portions I'm making by just a smidge and see if I can get the finished servings of cereal down at least to 2/3 cup. I'd love a vintage waistline!

Speaking of cereal, this morning's menu was perfect for a chilly day:

Oatmeal with Prunes

The description is ever-so-slightly different than a similar meal I had a few weeks ago:

Stewed Prunes

Oatmeal

So instead of serving the Prunes on the side, I cut them in pieces and dropped 'em into the pot of oatmeal while it was bubbling away. A subtle twist on words here, but I think the author of the cookbook meant for these to be two different meals. In a vintage magazine article on bringing your family back to the breakfast table, I read that you might make cooked cereals more tempting to Jim or little Patty by adding dried dates, raisins, figs, prunes, or apricots. No doubt.

One of the questions I took up about a month ago was the wardrobe appropriate for a 1940s housewife during the early hours of the morning. Should I be fully dressed and ready for company by the time I start breakfast? Would a housecoat be suitable for morning housework? How 'bout a robe and slippers? Since I head off for work after breakfast, I've been getting dressed before getting things started in the kitchen - but hadn't given up my comfy slippers until yesterday. Let's face it, though. If a '40s housewife went to the trouble of getting fully dressed before breakfast, she probably didn't dumb down her outfit with slippers! So shoes it is. And though I love wearing a pinafore-style apron while I'm working at the stove, it doesn't seem quite right once I'm sitting down to eat. It's funny --- there's nobody here to see what I'm wearing - or not wearing - at the breakfast table, but wardrobe can really have an impact on your state of mind. Breakfast should be a festive meal.

In the homes of workers breakfast always comes at the all-too-brief period between waking and dashing off for the train to the city. It is the unusual commuter who rises early enough to spend much time at table in the morning... Set your table in the sun, if possible. Look out on a garden if you can do so, or, in winter, on a birds' feeding station. It's fun to have breakfast in company with the juncos and blue jays. It's also nice to pull a small table close up to the open fire on chilly mornings, or to set out breakfast on the terrace in summer. Flowers or fruit on the table. Place mats, or a gay peasant cloth. Napkins at left. People should wake up cheerful and breakfast should be serene and gay. Try to manage your household so that your husband enjoys his breakfast and wishes he could stay longer, even as you push him out the door with a kiss on his way to the eight-fourteen.

Lily Haxworth Wallace, ed., The New American Etiquette
(New York: Books, 1941)

Here's my last bit of catch-up for the day. A glimpse of my favorite vintage tablecloth, which probably dates to the WWII years. It makes my table so bright and cheery. Even on days with a menu like the infamous Tomato Juice and Waffles with Butterscotch Sauce.

The Streamlined Bed

I've found another cereal that ranks right up there for me with Wheatena. Weetabix. At least when it's prepared with heated milk to make Weetabix Hot. Here's my 1945 breakfast menu for the day:

Mixed Fruit Juices (combined leftovers with lemon juice)

Cooked Whole-wheat Cereal

Since I hit the grocery store yesterday, I had three different kinds of fruit juices to mix together. And what thrifty '40s housewife wouldn't love a chance to get rid of the dregs of juice still remaining in several bottles? It's killer to get that fridge space back. Especially if you're headed out to do your marketing later that day. My glass of Mixed Fruit Juices was made up from equal parts orange juice, pineapple juice (should have stopped here), and tomato juice. With a squeeze of lemon which - perhaps not surprisingly - did nothing to improve the taste of the concoction. It was edible, but that's all.

I also picked up some Weetabix yesterday and found a recipe online for Weetabix Hot. It's a Whole-wheat Cereal, so I thought it would fit the bill nicely... unfortunately, it tasted like cereal that was already partially digested. Happily, I've just learned that Weetabix wasn't introduced to U.S. markets until 1968, so it's well past my timeframe. I think I'll try this stuff cold next time a Prepared Cereal is on the menu and see if it's a little more palatable.

Today was Day Three of bedmaking-by-the-book. Because of the warm weather in this corner of the world, I don't keep much in the way of covers on my bed: a fitted sheet, a flat sheet, a thin quilt, and a throw blanket. So making my bed doesn't take nearly as long as it must have for somebody following the instructions in the manual. The authors expected their readers to have two sheets (bottom and top), at least two blankets, a third sheet or blanket cover, and a bedspread. The blankets and blanket cover were all expected to be tucked in at the foot of the bed with mitered corners. It was even suggested that the bedspread have mitered corners if it wasn't already a fitted piece. A streamlined bed, I guess you could say. A design choice right in keeping with some of the latest architecture, vehicles, dinnerware, and clothing.

One of the questions I had early on during this experiment came up when I read the list of bed linens recommended for the new bride in a 1941 etiquette book. The author mentioned a "night spread" and, just now, I found a reference online at the website for Pioneer Linens, a company established in West Palm Beach, Florida in 1912:

Blanket covers are traditionally called a night spread, and used to decorate the bed when the bedspread is removed... Blanket covers are light in weight and can be finished in a pique, seersucker, and matelasse or percale... Use over a thermal weave blanket for added warmth during the winter months.

I had no idea! So it sounds like bedspreads were not used during the night - just folded down to the foot of the bed. The blanket cover and top sheet, which could both be more easily washed, protected heavy woolen "winter blankets" and fancy bedspreads alike from wear or soiling.

Bed Sweet Bed

What is it about human beings that makes us such creatures of routine? I never sleep quite as good as I do in my own bed - on my own pillows - and what a relief to get home last night and fall asleep under my own covers! I slept better than I had in several nights. Haven't quite caught up with the jetlag, but I'm feeling glad to be in my own little nest with a few more days before going back to work on Monday.

I used the 1945 instructions on "How to Make a Bed" the last day before my trip - Christmas Eve - and tried 'em out again this morning after eating my first vintage breakfast in a week. It was a blessedly simple menu, thank goodness!

Tomato Juice

Malt-O-Meal

Bedmaking is a decidedly easier task in 2009 it was in 1945 B.F.S. (Before Fitted Sheets). Back in the day, the only kind of sheet you could buy was a flat sheet. They were sold in sets of six and tied up with ribbons. And so the authors of my housekeeping manual tell me to make mitered ("hospital") corners at each corner of the "bottom sheet." The "top sheet" - what we'd call today the "flat sheet" - should be mitered at the foot of the bed only. I did indeed use a ruler to make my hospital corners and discovered that the 15 inches suggested for the fold is about the length from my elbow to the tip of my thumb. The '40s housewife probably wasn't toting a ruler about from bedroom to bedroom, so I should now be able to use my new rule of thumb (pun intended) to decide where to fold up each corner.

I vividly remember my mother teaching me when I was a little girl that the flat sheet should be spread on the bed with the hemmed side facing down. I couldn't understand why the pretty side shouldn't be facing up and protested. So she spread out the blankets and showed me how, when you turned the top of that sheet down over the blanket, the pretty side of was turned over, too - for all the world to admire! I wasn't surprised to see these directions also printed up in the manual. The authors even add italics to make sure that the reader remembers to spread the top sheet right side down before turning it down over the blankets.

It's time for me to make a grocery list and do a little unpacking. Happy New Year, dear readers!

Hospital Corners

I've decided to go ahead and make my bed every morning, but I'll wait to do it until after I've eaten breakfast and cleared away the breakfast things. That'll give my sheets as much time to air as possible. For years, I've been living like an unkempt teenager - only making my bed when I change my sheets or when company's expected. (My grandmothers would be shocked!) It's high time for a change.

Here's a quick tutorial on bedmaking, courtesy of my 1947 housekeeping manual:

How to Make a Bed

1. Spread mattress pad smooth.
2. Spread bottom sheet right side up, even and straight, with center crease exactly in center of bed and wide hem at top.
3. Tuck sheet in at head and foot of bed.
4. Make "hospital" or mitered corners on all four corners. Be sure sheet is smooth.
5. Spread top sheet right side down, even and straight, with wide hem at top.
6. Tuck sheet in at foot. Make mitered corners at foot only.
7. Spread blankets on, one at a time. Tuck in at foot, mitering corners. Tuck in at sides and turn top sheet down over blankets.
8. If desired, spread third sheet or blanket cover over blankets, mitering corners and tucking in sides.
9. Plump up pillows and place at head of bed.
10. Adjust bedspread. If the spread is not fitted it will hang better if mitered corners are made at the foot.

Need a refresher on hospital corners? Not to fear...

To make "hospital" or mitered corners:

1. Pick up edge of sheet about 15 inches from foot of bed. Lift up into diagonal fold; lay fold on mattress.
2. Tuck the part of the sheet that is left hanging, under the mattress.
3. Drop the fold, pull smooth; tuck under mattress.

Better get my ruler handy!

It's All in the Timing

So I'm beginning to feel a little strange about leaving my bed unmade all day.

My 1945 housekeeping manual recommends that the bedcovers be turned down before leaving the room to prepare breakfast, but that the housewife needn't return to the bedrooms to give them their daily cleaning (including making the beds) until after she's cleared away the breakfast things and given both the living room and dining rooms their daily once-over. Every room in the house should have had some attention - and the beds should've been made - by the time the "early forenoon" has come to an end or about 10:00 a.m.

My 1947 housekeeping manual doesn't give me any advice about when to make the beds; it just states that this is one of the daily chores in each bedroom.

When LIFE magazine profiled Jane Amberg of Kankakee, Illinois in the 1941 article "Occupation: Housewife," she told them that she made four beds everyday "after doing breakfast dishes and getting the kids to school."

Here's the dilemma: I have to go to work on weekdays after clearing away the breakfast things. I won't get a chance to give every room in my house a daily cleaning. Those kinds of chores are going to have to be folded over into a once weekly thorough cleaning of each room, but making the bed may just need to be an exception. It's not really true to the spirit of the '40s to come home to rumpled bedcovers. If I make up my bed after clearing away the breakfast things each morning - just before going to work - am I giving my bedding enough time to air properly?

Mrs. Amberg

Today was kind of a maintenance day. I did my early morning chores in the bedroom and sat down to some microwaved leftover pancakes for breakfast. There are plenty left for breakfast tomorrow morning, so it'll be another day or so before I have any new tales from the kitchen.

One thing I forgot to mention yesterday was that the Griddlecakes recipe calls for "melted shortening." Vegetable oil must have been just coming onto the market in 1945 and not yet widely available. It certainly saves some time - not having to melt a tablespoon of shortening on the stovetop - but maybe vegetable oil's one of the reasons my pancakes weren't very good.

LIFE magazine has just made its photographic archives available online and there's a sweet little series of pictures called "Occupation: Housewife" that were taken in a Kankakee, Illinois home in September 1941. Since I don't have much news to report from the home front today, I'll post a few of these photos and add a few more as soon as I have a chance. Here's a real '40s housewife hard at work... Enjoy!


Housewife & mother, Jane Amberg, 32, posing w. her husband of eleven yrs., Gilbert & their three kids Pamela, 4, Tony, 5, and Peter, 7, in front of large two-storey house they lease.


Jane Amberg, shushing her husband Gilbert, as they sit having quiet 6:30 a.m. breakfast before their three kids wake up, in kitchen at home.

Jane Amberg making one of the four beds she does daily after doing breakfast dishes and getting the kids to school, at home.

Jane Amberg loading the automatic washing machine w. several days dirty clothes in basement at home.