29 + 4 = 33

The halfway mark (155 lbs.) is finally in sight! Just close enough that - barring disaster - I can glimpse it at a few weeks' distance. I weighed in at 161 this morning, with a loss of 4 lbs. this past week. I was pretty nervous during those first few days when I'd worked my abs too hard and couldn't do most of my limbering and stretching exercises, but I was super stringent about my eating to try and compensate - and it paid off handsomely. (My abdomen is feeling back to normal again, thank goodness.) Here's to cracking into the 150s when I step on that scale next Saturday morning!

One of the areas in my kitchen that isn't really addressed in The Manual's daily or weekly housekeeping routines is the breakfast table.

Here at Casa Jitterbug, mine is also a lunch and dinner table. I don't have a separate dining room, so my only table sits at one end of my kitchen. It's a round wooden table that seats four --- though the leaves that make it round can be dropped when not in use, making it more of a rectangle. Most of the time I leave a vintage tablecloth on top. It adds such a punch of color to my kitchen! I'd like to purchase a few more of these cloths so that I can rotate them seasonally and give the kitchen a different look from time to time. Since there's usually only one person seated at my table, I have it positioned against one wall with a 1950 Zenith radio opposite my chair. A small blue footed stand holds whatever fruit I've got in the house which doesn't need refrigeration. These days, I leave my vitamins and blood pressure medication sitting right there at the middle of the table. It isn't ideal. I'd love to keep them in the cupboard or something, but it keeps me from forgetting to take 'em if they're right there in front of me when I sit down to eat my breakfast.

It's a lovely spot. A cozy, cheery place for a meal I've worked hard to prepare. But my current kitchen cleaning routines don't include any kind of maintenance for this part of the kitchen. I've been sweeping the floor underneath the table on a weekly basis and washing it on a monthly basis, but what about the table and chairs? What about the tablecloth? How about the items I leave on my table? Every breakfast nook needs a little attention... I took a look at The Manual's routines for care of the dining room, but they were so focused on care of upholstery, furnishings, carpets, and "buffet appointments" that they didn't seem to apply very well to this particular situation.

So let's break it down. My kitchen table, first and foremost, is not just a dining table. It's a work surface. Tuesday evenings find me folding the cloth back so that I can set up my tabletop ironing board and work my way through a basket of clothes. (That table's the perfect height for ironing!) On Fridays or Saturdays, I fold the cloth back while I'm cleaning the kitchen so that I can store small items there while I'm cleaning the range and counter tops. If I have any baking to do that involves kneading or rolling or cutting, my tablecloth is whisked away to a safe place while I use the table as my breadboard.

Well, I guess this answers one of my questions. One of my weekly duties in the kitchen has long been to "Wipe... all work surfaces in need of cleaning." If my kitchen table is just as important a work surface as my counters and range top, it too needs a weekly washing. Here are some instructions on the care of wooden furniture which might be of help:

Make a light lather, using mild soap and lukewarm water. Wring a soft cloth out of this lather and go over a small area. Rinse with a cloth wrung out of clear water. Dry with a soft cloth.

The Manual goes on with instructions on polishing wooden furniture, but I'm not going to use any polish which might damage the tablecloth. The table has a good sturdy finish, so a weekly washing should suffice. I think that'll do for now. I'm headed into the kitchen in a few minutes to begin my work in there for the week. Next week, I'll add another step in the care of my breakfast nook to my housekeeping routine.

Wednesdays

Wednesday might just be a good mid-week catch-up day after all... My strategy with these weekly chores has been that when social plans fall on an evening I've dedicated to a particular chore, I'd push every chore forward one day and catch up on the weekend. What I'm finding is that Wednesday is a nice opportunity to keep social plans during the early part of the week from disrupting the entire week's schedule. My only weekly chore on Wednesday evenings is "light" marketing - a brief stop on the way home from work at one of the smaller groceries where I buy organic foods - so I certainly have some additional free time later in the evening.

Case in point: this week. Several days ago, I lost my wallet and the Good Samaritan who picked it up decided not to return it or dispose of it, but rather to start using my debit card. (Thanks, creep.) Fortunately, I noticed it was missing very quickly and stopped the bleeding. Well, now I'm a woman without an identity. I've had to replace everything from my bank accounts and driver's license to my insurance cards and library card. I'm far from finished, but that's the reason I've been a bit upside down this week. I've missed breakfast the last two days because I was busy making phone calls. Last night, my sister needed some last-minute help with the babies, so the ironing got left behind. It's been a bit frantic, but it's nice to know that I still have plenty of time to do the ironing tonight and everything will be back on schedule again...

Wednesdays were a hodgepodge kinda day according to America's Housekeeping Book (1945), too. A day for "specific jobs such as silver polishing, shopping, sewing or something to be carried on throughout the day." I guess that's a 1940s update on the traditional saying: "mend on Wednesday."

Have I mentioned how much I enjoy my new centerpiece? Since studying up on vintage table settings for the kitchen, I realized the centerpiece you most frequently see in advertisements and in photos is a bowl of fruit. Practical, colorful, and pretty (as long as your bananas aren't overripe). Since I started making these vintage breakfasts, I've been keeping more fresh fruit about the house than ever before - grapefruit, oranges, lemons, bananas, apples - so I resurrected a small blue footed cake-plate that'd been gathering dust at the back of a cupboard and made it a fruit plate. It's perfect! Just the size for my kitchen table, and it looks a little different every day of the week. Living art.



Another of my breakfast-table discoveries has been if you dress up a bowl of corn-meal mush with a dab of margarine and a pinch or two of brown sugar, it takes like caramel corn. Yum!

What I've also discovered is that my "cooking" habits over the last several years have left me with a serious case of leftover-phobia. I can make something perfectly good to eat, like the shepherd's pie on Sunday evening, and end up with five servings left over. One day later, I'm craving something different for dinner. Okay, everybody needs a change of pace... Two days later, I start making something else and remember the pie when it's too late... Three days later, I'm starting to get icked out at the thought of eating it. It's probably starting to spoil by now, right? Here's some more perfectly good food gone to waste because I've gotten out of the habit of eating leftovers. This is something I have got to correct.

Too Tired for Titles

My, oh-me, oh-my... What a day! I spent in total about three hours working on my kitchen. Most of it this morning - then I cut out at noon as I had some place to be - then I was back to work this evening to finish the job. Thus far, cleaning the kitchen has easily been the most physically demanding chore. I took a couple breaks to drink some water and, once, to lay down on my bed and close my eyes for a few minutes.

The basic layout of the routine is organized around the three major appliances. First, the refrigerator. Second, the range. Third, the sink. Which makes sense - as you use the sink so much in cleaning things - from the crisper bins and racks in the refrigerator to the drip trays on the range. By the time you're finished cleaning everything else, the sink gets a final scrub and polish and you're finished. I'm actually not quite finished. My garbage can is airing dry outdoors on my landing. I'll bring it in in a few hours and throw a clean bag inside.

What was interesting was how few cleansers I needed in a room that gets as dirty as the kitchen. Per the manual, I used baking soda dissolved in cool water to clean out the inside of the refrigerator. Scouring powder to clean the drip trays. And lots of hot water, scalding water, and soapsuds. The only tools I needed: a sponge, a few clean dish towels (I put these in the wash as they got soiled), and a nylon scrubby thing. Some steel wool would have done a better job on the drip trays, though, so I picked up a box of those at the grocery store for next week. You really can do an amazing job with just a very few simple tools and cleansers. The disinfectant habit is so ingrained in me that it was tough not to use some of the stronger cleansers I had on hand. For a finishing touch, I guess. We've been so bombarded with ads promoting antibacterial cleansers and disinfectant wipes that it's tough to figure out whether these things are truly important in housekeeping or not. The only time the manual recommends using a disinfectant is occasionally in cleaning the garbage can.

Although I didn't even notice when I typed up the list of chores for the kitchen, there are several major items missing! The floor, for one. Which is strange, as the manual mentions floor care for every other room in the house. They do mention in a chapter on "Floors" that the "kitchen floors may need to be damp-mopped every day" and "may require washing once a week or oftener." They just leave this item out of the daily and weekly routine entirely. The authors of the manual never mention cleaning up smaller appliances. And they neglect entirely any care needed to a breakfast nook or dining alcove in the kitchen. These kinds of things are certainly covered in other chapters, it's just odd that they are aren't mentioned specifically in daily or weekly chores for the kitchen. The authors are usually so detailed!

I'm so tired I can't even think in a straight line, so I'll leave you with my 1945 dinner menu for tomorrow evening and call it a night:

Whipped Potatoes
Buttered Beets
Tossed Greens Salad
Chocolate Pudding

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.

Tabula Rasa

Now that the leftovers are eaten and the nightmare behind me, I must spill about the atrocious breakfast menu I prepared yesterday morning:

Tomato Juice

Waffles

Butterscotch Sauce

Adaptations:

I don't own a waffle iron, so the waffles were frozen. This certainly made the menu a whole lot easier to prepare and clean up after than it would have been for a 1940s housewife. Of course, my Homestyle Eggos weren't as tasty as they would have been fresh from a waffle iron either!

There were way too many strong flavors going on with this breakfast menu. The tomato juice would have been tastier with an omelet or scrambled eggs and toast. With a sticky, sweet mess like Waffles and Butterscotch Sauce - not so much. The Butterscotch Sauce was a recipe inside the cookbook, made in a saucepan from brown sugar, butter, lemon juice, and nutmeats. My biggest mistake was probably using margarine for something with the word "butter" actually in its name! And none of the ingredients tasted like they melded together. All I could taste as I ate the Waffles was brown sugar, lemon juice, and walnuts. And the fact that it may have been slightly overcooked certainly didn't do it any favors. Nevertheless, I forced myself to reheat the sauce and choke it down again this morning. It was just as gag-inducing as I remembered it. I'm not sure I'll try this one again. The only real good to come of this menu is that I found out my Air-O-Hood does a great job at whisking "cooking odors" away! Here's to better breakfasts tomorrow morning...

Pick up and replace small articles belonging in the room. Gather up to take out: articles belonging in other rooms, plants or flowers to be tended; place on tray or tea wagon.

So what kinds of things - besides dirty dishes - would my '40s counterpart have been picking up and restoring to their proper places when breakfast was finished? The morning newspaper, I suppose. Small electrical appliances like toasters were often used right on the breakfast table, so they would have to have been unplugged and returned to the cupboard where they belonged. Salt and pepper shakers, pots of jam, and the sugar bowl - all these items might have been returned to the refrigerator or a special shelf in the kitchen. Maybe a child left a small book or toy at the table by accident. These, too, would need to be removed. Cloth napkins would need to be laundered, though the tablecloth could probably just be brushed clean as long as there hadn't been any spills.

The authors of America's Housekeeping Book are so detailed, they even remember the plants or flowers that might serve as a centerpiece in the dining room or the breakfast nook. My impression from the vintage magazines I've looked through is that potted flowers, like small geraniums, and bowls of fruit were the most popular centerpieces for these informal table settings. And if a potted plant needs watering or pruning, it'd definitely be a lot neater to do that kind of thing in the kitchen sink than at the table. The only flowers at my kitchen table are in the design on the tablecloth, so they never need much in the way of tending!

Here's a salute to some tidy breakfast tables of the '40s - and their owners: