Calling It a Day

I've had an uber discouraging day. Things are breaking and malfunctioning all around me (including this computer monitor), I'm still a bit weary from my trip, and I don't have any zest left to put into my post, so I'm going to delay my new mission for another day. I think I'll just curl up under warm covers and get some rest. 'Til tomorrow, dear readers...

One Challenge Begets Another

One of the things I indulged in while I was away on vacation was a little television. I'd finished the seven week hiatus I'd set forth for myself in May and was really looking forward to the season premiere of my guilty summer pleasure, Big Brother.

So on the second or third night at my sister's, I tuned in with much anticipation - only to find myself super impatient with the proportion of commercials to actual programming. Okay, the program wasn't really all that great either. But I couldn't believe how many commercials there were! It felt like one long series of commercials with a few interruptions from the program itself. I like to think that I'm not really affected by advertising like that. That as a person living on a fairly modest income who's relatively non-materialistic, seeing that amount of advertising doesn't really get under my skin. That's what I'd like to think, but after sitting through that many commercials - I gotta wonder.

I also found myself a little dizzied by the pace of things - particularly during the commercials. Images flashed across the screen a mile a minute. All jagged and tipped about at one angle and another. I remember when NYPD Blue first began shooting its program like that and the industry was all abuzz about this new technique. How appealing it'd be to the generation who'd grown up on video games and MTV. Well, I guess I must have become accustomed to it years ago, but it made me positively seasick when I tuned back in after seven weeks of life ashore.

It's been an interesting experiment. And one that's not entirely over... I came home on Tuesday and went to turn on my own TV only to find that it did not survive The Switch intact. I live in a very large city and two of the major networks aren't coming in at all. I've tried repositioning the antenna, channel scanning - no luck. And I don't honestly have the patience to deal with it right now, so it's still sitting mute and dark in the corner.

So - if I ever do get that antenna in gear and actually have reception again --- can I become the kind of person who turns the television on when I want to watch something special and turns it off again afterward? That's the new challenge. Because there is some wonderful television out there, after all... It's almost been easier, I think, having a complete ban in effect. Despite some very antsy few days in the beginning, I really didn't mind not being able to watch TV for most of those seven weeks. There were only a couple times I wanted to watch it badly. In both cases, I was also feeling either lonesome or under the weather at the time. How's that for a link. TV's been my hot water bottle. Filled the gap when I was bored or lonely in this new city - comforted me when I was feeling sick or cramp-y. Television was also a way of unwinding for me. A way of relaxing after a long day at work and letting somebody else take the wheel. But there are other ways of relaxing and unwinding and I'm looking forward to discovering them...

Without a doubt, I have loved the sensation of having longer evenings in my home. It's like I've stolen a few hours back from evenings that used to fly by without my even realizing it! Fitting a home-cooked dinner, chores, and relaxation into my evenings doesn't seem impossible any more. I'm not there yet, but it's a way of life that truly feels attainable now. And just in the nick of time, too. I'm going to be adding a whole new beauty routine to my evenings next week and I'm going to need that newfound time.

In the meantime, I've got a new vintage culture mission in the works. Tune in tomorrow for the announcement!

Hot Air

Have you cleaned your radiators lately?

Dust radiators (covers and coils) or registers; clean thoroughly when necessary.

My bedroom is due for its monthly cleaning tonight, so I'm headed in there shortly to strip the bedcovers and get things started. The first time I came across any mention of cleaning radiators or registers in the bedroom, I said, "Hurrah! That's one chore I can cross off the list." My 1980s apartment doesn't have anything of the kind. I do, however, have a vent-y kinda thingamajig in each room as well as a larger one [maybe a return register?] in my hallway. The more I read up on the care recommended for radiators or registers, the more I realize how important it was that the vents to my own joint heating/cooling system be properly dusted and cleaned. Here's an excerpt from America's Housekeeping Book (1945):

RADIATORS

Exposed radiators must be kept clean for the protection of walls, curtains and draperies. During the season when the heat is on, this special cleaning should be done once a week. In the summer months less frequent cleaning is needed.

If you are not using a vacuum cleaner for cleaning, place dry newspaper under the radiator to protect the floor. Cover this with a layer of dampened newspaper. Brush the coils downward with a radiator brush, so that the dust collects on the damp paper. Fold the paper carefully and dispose of it.

If you have a vacuum cleaner, use the blower attachment to dislodge the dust and blow it downward. Then use the suction attachment to gather the dust into the bag. The dampened paper may be used if desired, but is not really necessary.


The exposed radiator took up a lot of space in this living room.

Recessed radiators are not a dust problem during the season when they are in use, because air passes through them so rapidly that dust does not collect. In the summer, dust is apt to settle on them, and they should be cleaned every two or three weeks. Most recessed radiators have removable fronts which facilitate cleaning, and many have an arch at the base which admits the vacuum cleaner. The method for cleaning is the same as for exposed radiators.


Just to the right of the door, you can see a recessed radiator set into the wall.

HOT AIR REGISTERS

Once-a-week cleaning should be the rule, during the months when registers are in use, and at least every two weeks during the summer.

Spread dry newspapers on the floor and cover them with a layer of dampened newspapers. Lift the grating from the register and set it on the damp paper. Brush the grating and the opening to the hot air shaft, or use the suction attachment of the vacuum cleaner which does a much more thorough cleaning job.

I've never lived in any homes with radiators - recessed or otherwise - still intact, but I did live in a turn-of-the-century home in New Hampshire during my early twenties where the furnace pushed heat through cast-iron registers laid in the floors of various rooms. If you just couldn't shake the cold on a winter's day, all you had to do was stand near one of those registers when the heat came on. Whoosh! You'd be warm in an instant. Those registers must've been awful heavy to remove for cleaning, though.

Home heating technology may have changed dramatically over the last sixty years, but dust hasn't. The vents in my apartment are more similar to the "hot air registers" of yesteryear than to radiators. There's no steam involved, for one. Between the heat needed during our brief winter and the air conditioning needed the rest of the year, my vents are always on the job --- so I'd say they need a good dusting with the vacuum cleaner once a week. Once a month, they could probably use a cleaning with a warm, soapy rag. The vents also appear to be removable - though I haven't tried that myself! - so it might be a good idea to get in there on a seasonal basis and vac around the opening to the shaft.

11 + 2 = 13

I crossed my fingers behind my back as I stepped on the scale this morning. One week's vacation = most of my walks + a few of my exercises + 3/4 of an ice cream cone + a couple meals out + 1 thin slice of birthday cake + several unfortunate snacks. Much to my surprise, it also = 2 less lbs.! I weighed in at 181 this morning.

My week in Connecticut was wonderful! How good it was to breathe that salt air and walk in the woods... I am happy to be back to work, though, when it comes to my reducing and fitness plans. All my routines, actually. And it's swell to come home to a clean-ish house.

When I got up this morning, I wasn't sure I'd remember everything that needed to be done, but the only thing I forgot was to take that one last look in the mirror to inspect my clothes and hair. That's a tricky one. Why do you suppose I keep forgetting it? Is it just that I've gotten so accustomed over the years to spending very little time in the mirror? I guess when you don't like the way you look you don't spend much more time than you have to checking yourself out. In fact, I daresay I avoid looking at myself even when I'm passing reflective windows... The other day, my sister was lamenting the fact that she'd developed some varicose veins during her second pregnancy and I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I'd looked at the back of my legs in a mirror! I think I'll have to start leaving the mirror from my vanity set someplace where it'll jog my memory every morning.

You don't always have to look at yourself in a mirror to see yourself from a new perspective. During one of my indulgent moments last week, I was having dinner in a Mexican restaurant with my family. Halfway through the meal, I knew that I was full. Normally, I'd have eaten all or most of the meal before that signal made it's way to my brain - then end up feeling stuffed and disgusted with myself afterwards. This time, I just put my fork down and waited for everybody else to finish. The food just wasn't good enough to be worth any extra damage. Kinda neat to see those meager portions at dinner are having some effect... And the cake! I've been fantasizing about cake for weeks. It was my sister's birthday, so I didn't feel quite right turning it down. Sadly, it wasn't anywhere near as lovely as my fantasy cake. So maybe that's killed that fantasy for awhile.

Well, I've been to the grocery store to stock back up on milk and eggs and fresh fruit and veggies. I've got all kinds of unpacking to do... Catch you tomorrow!

Bon Voyage!

Well, dear readers, my ride to the airport - or air station, as it was called in the early days - is due shortly, so I wanted to bid you a fond farewell. I'm headed to New England for a week's vacation with family. A little woods, a little beach, lots of fun!

I've packed some healthy-ish snacks in my personal item and will plan on ordering a salad if I have to eat during my layover in Dallas this evening. I'll be sticking like mad to my fitness routine and reducing plan, but vacations can be a challenge - so I'll be thrilled if I break even. (I weighed in at 183 this morning.) On a good note, I had to go shopping last night because so many of my clothes don't fit me any longer. Most of my pants have gotten so saggy that I have to wear a belt all the time. It's actually the first time in y.e.a.r.s that shopping for clothes didn't leave me wanting to cry and throw up all at same time. I fit into a size 16 pant for the first time in forever and they looked great on me! Not to worry, I only bought a few things... I'm not planning to be a size 16 for long.

Have a wonderful week!

Mistress of My Domain

Here it is just after 6:00 p.m. and my meager supper is finished. It can't have been that much smaller than most of my suppers, but for whatever reason it just felt meager tonight. Rats! Looks like I've got a long evening ahead... I think I'll torture myself and tell you all about last night's vintage dinner, courtesy of The American Woman's Cook Book (1945):

Baked Potato
Buttered Turnips
Beet Pickle Salad on Lettuce
Peach Sorbet

Have I ever even baked a potato in my own oven? I don't think I have. Having prepared potatoes umpteen different ways since beginning these vintage dinners, I was truly able to appreciate just how easy making a Baked Potato is for the housewife. It puts the oven through its paces, but, boy, is it worth it! I didn't like turnips years ago, but wanted to give them a try to see if my taste buds have matured. They weren't terrible. I could take 'em or leave 'em. The Peach Sorbet was my reducing-friendly substitute for Orange Sugarless Cake.

Beet Pickle isn't the kind of thing you whip up on a single day, so I compromised by purchasing a jar of Aunt Nellie's Pickled Beets at the supermarket. Many a 1940s housewife would've been able to jazz up a bland-ish meal by stepping into her cellar and picking up a jar of something she'd put up last summer. My maternal grandparents had an earthen cellar under their house and one of the greatest treats for my sisters and me when we were little was getting to unlatch that door, clamber carefully down the wooden steps, and run about in that cool, dark, mysterious space. At the bottom of the steps was a set of shelves filled with preserves of every variety imaginable, including a lovely pickled watermelon rind which must have been Grammie's specialty. I like to imagine that had I the time and space - not to mention the garden - I'd be pickling beets and watermelon rind for my own household stores! Anyway, my 1945 menu originally suggested that the Beet Pickle be suspended with celery in a lemon gelatin. I skipped the gelatin (as I'm sure you could've guessed), combined the diced Beet Pickle with diced celery, and served it on a bed of greens with a dollop of mayonnaise.



I'm not sure which room I was least looking forward to adding to my housekeeping routine in the beginning, but the bathroom placed in the Top Two. It's funny, because it's actually the smallest room in the house. You'd think it'd be a breeze. I absolutely dreaded having to clean the tub and the toilet regularly. Well, I've been doing that week in and week out for about a month now and I've got something to confess...

It's not that bad.

It helps me to break it into pieces and focus on one part of the tub and shower surround at a time - the end wall, the side wall, the shower wall, the tub. Lather, scrub, rinse. Lather, scrub, rinse. Top to bottom. Top to bottom. The tub is just a free-for-all with my trusty Comet, a scrub brush, and some piping hot water. I have a special scrubby sponge dedicated just to the bathroom. When it comes to the toilet, that's where those modern antibacterial wipes come in handy. They used to be my one and only tool when it came to housekeeping - *hanging my head in shame* --- the only thing I use them for now is for cleaning the outside of the toilet and the seat. Heck, even The Manual instructs its readers to have a cloth reserved for nothing more than cleaning the toilet. I think I'll add antibacterial wipes (for use on the toilet) to my small list of modern innovations that are worth their salt.

Did you ever see The Farmer's Wife? It's an amazing documentary about a struggling Nebraska farm family that aired on Frontline in 1998. An example of the very best that television has to offer... Well, there's a scene where Juanita Buschkoetter - farmer's wife and mother of three - is hard at work on her off-farm job. She cleans houses on a part-time basis. She's bending over and cleaning the toilet in this home so much bigger and nicer than her own and she says to the cameraman, "I don't mind cleaning houses, but I hate cleaning other people's toilets." I think of that scene every time I'm cleaning my own toilet and feel grateful in an instant that it's mine and not somebody else's. Juanita would have considered it a lucky break indeed to be able just to keep her own bathroom clean... If you've never seen this film, it's the kind of life-altering television you'll never forget. Netflix it immediatement.

Intervention

You know, I'm really proud of the progress I've made over the last few months in cleaning up my diet. Because of the amount of water I'm drinking, I've been able to go from drinking 10-11 Vitamin Waters per week to 3-4. I've even had a seven-day run without any missteps on the snacking front. When I start to feel those terrible late-night cravings these days, I try to head 'em off by eating a piece of fruit or a dish of berries. Even if I'm not particularly interested in fruit at the moment. It seems to do the trick --- gives my stomach something to work on and I forget about the food I was craving. I can see myself buying less and less of things like cheese and Quaker rice crisp snacks. And I've never once in all these weeks cheated on my workout.

So I was a little disappointed to see 184 on the scale during this morning's weigh-in. That's 1 lb. higher than last Sunday's 183. My total weight loss in the 12 weeks since April 9 = 10 lbs. No time to fret, though. Onward and upward! I've got lots more work left to do --- and the monumental challenge of a week's vacation in front of me. It's going to be a battle just to keep up my walking and exercises and to stick to my new and improved eating habits. Especially while I'm traveling. (I usually relieve airport stress by eating!) This morning's results on the scale call for an intervention, but I'm going to make it a minor one. Just a few small changes...

Fitness
Did I mention that I've gone back to walking at lunch on weekdays? I didn't mind going to the rec center, but - between the workout and recovering from a stomachache from trying to eat anything beforehand - I was pretty much losing Monday and Wednesday evenings entirely. For now, I think I'd rather lose half my lunch hour. I'm going to kick things up a notch for this next mission by adding an additional five minutes to both my weekend workouts:

Walk 30 minutes a day, four times during the week.
Walk 65 minutes a day, both days during the weekend.

Reducing
I think my dessert mission is on the right track, but my dear readers have reminded me of some modern twists that might be a slight improvement on the vintage suggestions. I'm going to substitute sorbet for the sherbet. And when I need a chocolate fix, I'll make that pudding up with skim milk instead of 1%.

1/2 cup fat-free rainbow sherbet = 120 calories
vs.
1/2 cup raspberry sorbet = 80 calories

1/2 cup chocolate pudding (1% organic milk) = 140 calories
vs.
1/2 cup chocolate pudding (organic skim milk) = 130 calories

Having some skim milk around the house means I'll be able to use it in all sorts of things - from my morning coffee to scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes! I'll be back later today with a housekeeping post...

"...when we knew them by the shape of their legs"

Here it is Friday and I haven't posted anything yet about last Sunday's vintage dinner! Thank goodness for "Independence Day Observed" - it gives me the chance to do some serious catching up on all fronts. (I'll do my observing tomorrow.)

Eggs Scrambled with Chopped Chives or Parsley
Salad of Shredded Lettuce and Carrots and Chopped Sweet Pickle
Roll
Blueberry Pudding

Recommended by The American Woman's Cook Book (1945) as a menu for a Saturday evening, this was a wonderful change of pace after a hot summer's day. Just the kind of the meal that would allow a housewife some extra time to get her children through their Saturday night baths... I added some Parsley to my Scrambled Eggs. Most of you could probably scramble eggs with your eyes closed, but I thought you might enjoy seeing a '40s take on the recipe.

*******************************************

BATTERED OR SCRAMBLED EGGS

In a frying-pan, place one teaspoon of butter for each egg. Beat the eggs until the whites and yolks are well mixed. Season with salt and pepper and add one to three tablespoons of milk or cream for each egg. Pour into the hot fat and cook slowly, stirring constantly until the eggs are of the desired consistency. Serve at once. A little onion-juice or chopped parsley may be added to the eggs, if desired.

*******************************************

I made the salad using iceberg lettuce, carrot, and chopped sweet gherkins. The whole-wheat roll was purchased at the supermarket --- a nod to the foods commercially available by the 1940s. The Blueberry Pudding was a simple cottage pudding with fresh blueberries added to the batter. It was so good, but I'm afraid it'll be the last of my desserts from these dinner menus for a little while. (The leftovers are way too tasty!) I'm going to substitute either a baked custard, sherbet, or pudding for the vintage suggestions.

The summer rains have moved into this part of the desert. I use the word "rains" loosely - it rains for about 5-10 minutes in the late afternoon - but the storms do stir up some lovely wind and cloudy skies... So it was time to clean my bedroom yesterday evening and a storm had just passed by. For the first time in all these months, I had to find an alternative to airing my bedcovers and pillows on the landing outside my door. The railing was wet and water was still dripping from the roof. Hmmm. What's a good housewife-who's-not-a-wife-and-works-outside-the-home-five-days-a-week to do? I reached for The Manual. Aha!

Remove all bed covers; stretch over end of bed, or over chairs, off the floor.

That - I could do. And at least it gives you a chance to open the windows and air the mattress. Making up my bed again afterwards wasn't quite as satisfying an experience as it usually is. I didn't get to beat the pillows or give the bedcovers a good shake - didn't want to stir up any fresh dust indoors - but it was a decent trade in a pinch.

Have you ever read Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon books? I'm reading the second one, Leaving Home (1987), and there's a thought he expressed in passing that's making me especially mindful these days of the way my legs look. (Mindful to the point where I may have overdone it with my new exercises yesterday --- my legs are aching this morning!) It's a passage in the opening essay to the book that made me think of my legs. A beautiful passage in more ways than one. It makes me laugh and weep a little at the same time. I laugh, because I'd like to be known by my nieces as the aunt with fabulous legs!

When I was little I didn't think of grownups as having bare skin; grownups were made of wool clothing, only kids were bare naked...

Every time I read a book about how to be smarter, how not to be sad, how to raise children and be happy and grow old gracefully, I think "Well, I won't make those mistakes, I won't have to go through that," but we all have to go through that. Everything they went through, we'll go through. Life isn't a vicarious experience. You get it figured out and then one day life happens to you. You prepare yourself for grief and loss, arrange your ballast and then the wave swamps the boat.

Everything they went through: the loneliness, the sadness, the grief, and the tears--it will all come to us, just as it came to them when we were little and had to reach up to get hold of their hand, when we knew them by the shape of their legs. Aunt Marie had fat little legs, I held her hand one cold day after a blizzard, we climbed snowdrifts to get to the store and buy licorice whips. She said, "Come on, we can make it, don't slip," and soon she was far behind, a fat lady in a heavy coat with a fur collar, leaning into the wind, wheezing from emphysema, and sometime later she died. She knew that death was only a door to the kingdom where Jesus would welcome her, there would be no crying there, no suffering, but meanwhile she was fat, her heart hurt, and she lived alone with her ill-tempered little dogs, tottering around her dark little house full of Chinese figurines and old Sunday Tribunes. She complained about nobody loving her or wanting her or inviting her to their house for dinner anymore. She sat eating pork roast, mashed potato, creamed asparagus, one Sunday at our house when she said it. We were talking about a trip to the North Shore and suddenly she broke into tears and cried, "You don't care about me. You say you do but you don't. If I died tomorrow, I don't know as you'd even go to my funeral." I was six. I said, cheerfully, "I'd come to your funeral," looking at my fat aunt, her blue dress, her string of pearls, her red rouge, the powder on her nose, her mouth full of pork roast, her eyes full of tears.

Every tear she wept, that foolish woman, I will weep every one before I am done and so will you. We're not so smart we can figure out how to avoid pain, and we cannot walk away from the death we owe.

So true. For all our modern technologies, shopping malls, and miracle drugs, we can't avoid the mistakes and fears and losses that shaped the lives of our grandmothers, our great-grandmothers, and their great-grandmothers before them... If you've never read any of Keillor's books - or listened to his marvelous Prairie Home Companion on NPR - you've got something wonderful in store. He paints such a frank and beautiful picture of life in a small Minnesota town. His bits in Lake Wobegon Days on the scandal of air conditioning and over-ambitious tomato gardeners --- genius!

Week Thirty-three: The Mission

Fitness
This week, I'm going to add another few "limbering and stretching exercises" to my day. These exercises were included in an article by beauty expert Antoinette Donnelly in an article titled "Daily Exercise Aids Feeling of Fatigue" (Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, February 13, 1940). Donnelly recommended that her readers begin by doing each exercise 20 times. The first will be added to my morning routine:

7. Rise up on the balls of your feet, bring your arms up overhead, stretching, stretching, stretching everything from toes up, keeping chest high, abdomen in.

The next two will be the nucleus of an evening exercise routine:

8. Take your old friend the floor-touching one, but we prefer the floor-touching one in which you turn on the waist and attempt to touch the floor back of your heels.

9. Lie on your back on the floor with your arms stretched wide at shoulders. Keep head and shoulders on the floor while you raise your right foot over and cross the left, aiming to reach with a long stretch a meeting between your right-foot toes and your left-hand fingers. Then reverse, bringing your left foot and right hand into contact. At first the meeting will be very, very formal, the pair not getting together at all. But that’s all right. You’re doing something fine for yourself, your waistline, hipline, thighs, lower back and, indeed, the upper torso comes in for benefit, too.

Reducing
I'm transforming my desserts this week. I've long since made over my lunchtime desserts on weekdays. They're almost always some sort of decadent dish of fruit - berries, usually. Now it's time to do something about the desserts I eat after dinner and at lunchtime on the weekends. Ice cream was banished from my household several weeks ago, but it's been replaced with something possibly even worse --- peanut butter cups. I winced when I turned the container over the other day and faced the fact that three of these babies equal 180 calories. Yikes! I could easily eat six to nine of them in a sitting.

An article on reducing in the October 1945 issue of Good Housekeeping has three great dessert suggestions: baked custard, lemon sherbet, and pudding. Sadly, the recipe for each of these dishes includes saccharin as the sweetener. I'm not fond of artificial sweeteners. (Splenda, in particular, rips through me like a house afire.) What I figure, though, is that - even sweetened with sugar - if I stick to the recommended serving size, I'll be making a ginormous step in the right direction if I trade one of these dessert suggestions for my peanut butter cups:

1/2 cup fat-free rainbow sherbet = 120 calories
1/2 cup chocolate pudding made with 1% organic milk = 140 calories

Either one is a heck of a lot better than 360-540 calories' worth of peanut butter and chocolate! There are lots of flavors to keep me interested and they'll be sinchy to make.

Grooming
My face is powdered, my lips have been painted --- my hair may not be in vintage order, but it's been brushed 'til it shines and parted with precision. Here's the last step in the 1946 morning grooming routine for young women:

Take a last look, to be sure you are impeccable from top to toe.

I'm going to dust off that looking glass and take a good long look at myself in the morning before I leave the house. Wrinkles in my clothing? Lint? How does my hair look from the back? It's high time I take some responsibility for what I look like below the neck!