A Place for Everything

He looked in the laundry basket. On the floors of the bathrooms. The hooks on the doors. The backs of chairs. Under the bed.

"Alright," he said, with dripping hands, "where are all our towels?"

"I did laundry, folded them, and put them away."

A Beautiful Housewife Quote from Beautiful Literature

"For the homeliest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them, and Meg found so many proofs of this that everything in her small nest, from the kitchen roller to the silver vase on her parlor table, was eloquent of home love and tender forethought."

-from Little Women and Good Wives by Louisa May Alcott

A Brief Housewife's Prayer

Thank you, Lord, that my husband works so hard and gets his clothes so dirty. It is a privilege to wash and fold them.

Thank you, Lord, that my husband has such a hearty appetite and enjoys my food so much. It is a joy to cook for him.

Thank you, Lord, that my husband always cleans his plate. It is an honor to wash his dishes.

Thank you, Lord, that I can participate in my husband's work in the dusty fields by sweeping and vacuuming these dusty floors.

Thank you, Lord, that we have indoor, clean, heated plumbing. It is a luxury to clean bathrooms.

Thank you, Lord, that the very tasks which often seem burdens are actually great blessings. Amen.

Today's Tomato Tally

7 hours (counting neither my sister-in-law's tomato picking time, nor cleanup, which was substantial)

7 pints of whole canned tomatoes
11 pints of lacto-fermented salsa
14 pints of tomato sauce
1 completely tomato juice covered t-shirt

That's 4 gallons of tomatoes, in case you didn't do the math.

Goodnight.

Laundry? Fun? My Laundry Game

I, like most other housewives, have a hard time with laundry.

I know, I know, I've got it easy. There's just the two of us, of course, so I'm rarely swimming in piles of laundry. It can take us three weeks to go through our whole wardrobe, and even then it may only be four loads.

Regardless of the infrequency, I really find it onerous to wash whites.

I love washing towels. I don't mind doing darks. But it's a chore to do the whites. Why?

Because I'm obsessive when it comes to matching socks, and despite my best efforts it seems there are always mismatched socks at the end of folding time. And it bothers me a lot. I disdain having to match a white sock with a gray one, or a long one with a short one, or a blue banded one with a red banded one. While it's fine in the human sphere, I don't believe in interracial sock marriages.

Last week it came to a head.

"I need to go fold those clothes. But maybe I should just play a game of Mahjong Titans first."

6 minutes later

"Hm. That was too easy, maybe I should play another to verify I'm a Mahjong champ."

10 minutes later

"Drat, I almost had it that time. I think I need to play again so my win percentage doesn't go down."

8 minutes later

"I should really fold that laundry. I'm wasting time... I could've done so many other things. Maybe I could just play one mo... NO!! Self, go fold that laundry!"

*grumble grumble*

Flash of inspiration.

"Why don't I play Mahjong with the socks?"

I whipped those whites in record time. And while I didn't win, I can't wait to play again.

Finding My Decorating Style

When I moved into this little rental house after our honeymoon, I wanted to make it comfortable... but not too comfortable. We were only supposed to be here a year, you see. It was our "temporary home," before we bought a "real house." I didn't want to get too attached to it, so I didn't want to make it too cozy.

Well, years have passed, and it doesn't look like we're moving anytime soon. The time has come to make it feel really comfortable, because, by golly, it's our home!

But I've never really decorated before. I mean, my dorm room at college had some nice artwork cut out of a book and sticky-tacked to the wall, but I could hardly pull that off here.


I don't know what my style is. Simple, I think, but functionally elegant. I don't like clutter, or little breakable trinkets that need to be dusted and carefully guarded.

Painting, sconces, ironwork, artwork, candles, mirrors, wreaths, curtains, rugs, pillows, topiaries, furniture... I'm not quite sure where to start.

For now I think I'll start by straightening the picture on the wall.

What's your style?

My 4 Qualms with Monthly Menu Planning (+ A Download)

I've hit a snag in my housewifery.

Monthly Menu Planning.

AAGH!! While I used to feel so on top of it when I finished making a monthly menu, those words which used to bring a creative explosion of delight at the endless possibilities now strike dread and terror into my innermost being.

Once a month grocery shopping, while great for my budget, just isn't cutting it for me anymore, for four reasons.

 #1. Planning 90 meals in one sitting requires brain surgeon-like concentration. I don't know about you, but it's really hard to anticipate our cravings a whole month in advance, plus add variety, new recipes, and flexibility into the mix. On the occasions when I've actually done this, it takes a really long time to plan out a month of dinners (even figuring toast and eggs for breakfast and leftovers for lunch) and write down all of the ingredients for the shopping trip. I lose interest an hour into the venture.

#2. When I inevitably stray very far from the plan, I feel like a failure. Flexibility is necessary with any plan, but I get ambitious when crafting the menu plan and think I'll actually wake up 45 minutes early to make blueberry muffins on a Tuesday three weeks from now. When I sleep in on that Tuesday, I realize I've set myself up for failure.

#3. I miss some really great sales. Chickens: $0.79 lb. Two pounds of sharp cheddar cheese: $3.99. Avocados: 4 for $1. It invariably happens that after I've spent our grocery budget, there'll be a great sale like this. "Do I buy it for next month?" Once or twice this would be fine, I suppose, but it happens just about every week which leads me to #4.

#4. Mammoth waste. I started monthly menu planning last Summer when I was getting most of our produce from the garden. But now that I'm getting a lot of produce from the store, the amount of waste as the month draws to an end is disgusting! It seems like such a "duh" thing (did I really think a head of lettuce would last indefinitely? or a gallon of milk would never expire?) but it still surprises me anew each time my wilty soggy fuzzy green dripping cauliflower hidden in the back of the crisper drawer needs to be tossed onto the compost pile.

The obvious solution would be to buy the bulk of the food once a month, and then do weekly or bi-weekly trips to the store for perishables. But I'm just not controlled enough to stick to a budget with that many trips to the grocery store ("but the Shitake mushrooms and imported Dijon mustard were on sale, darling!").

It's been said that a man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs, but a woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn't need. Amen to that!

So I'm experimenting with a new method. Bi-weekly menu planning. 

By cutting my budget in half and allowing myself to spend it in full every two weeks, I seem to have reached a compromise. It's not nearly as overwhelming to plan two weeks. I don't dream quite so big when the deadline for the meal isn't so far away. I can take advantage of the loss-leader grocery ads. My broccoli stays crisp until the next shopping trip. Voila, works for me!

One tool that's always really helped me with meal planning is this simple Weekly Meal Plan PDF.

So, I know there are as many ways to meal plan as there are women to do it, but how do you do it in your home? Weekly? Bi-weekly? Monthly? Freezer cooking? Skin of your teeth?

This post is linked to: We are THAT Family.

Undercover Dishwashing

After almost 5 months of grimy icky disgusting dishes coming out of the dishwasher (hand-washing the particularly grievous ones before putting them away), we finally have sparkling clean dishes!

The problem started earlier this year when our state banned detergents with phosphates in them (Cascade). "Oh, no problem... all detergents are the same, right?"

NO!! All of our dishes on the top rack had this sandy ick on them. I rubbed my hand over a freshly washed glass and it scraped my knuckles!

Over the course of the next five months, we tried everything. Vinegar in the JetDry area, homemade detergent, liquid detergent, water softener, increasing the water heater temperature, unclogging every nozzle in the danged contraption, cleaning every trap, and finally we just got a new dishwasher. The old one was older than I am, so I didn't mind upgrading that at the landlord's expense (he agreed). Nothing doing. Cloudy glasses, sandy plates, and grody dull grimy silverware.

Last Friday, out of the clear blue, we scored some contraband. For some reason the grocery store (which hitherto had not been selling the banned goods) had pulled out a secret stash of phosphate-laden Cascade. No kidding.

After paying, we smuggled out a stack of the boxes, hoping the Green Police wouldn't catch us. First batch of dishes washed... NO!!! They were 80% better than before, but still there were sandy flecks in my glasses and on the plates.

In one last-ditch effort before resigning myself to hand-washing forever, we added a scant 1/2 teaspoon of citric acid to the detergent. An hour and a half later I opened the dishwasher to survey the results. My expectations were low.

Ta da!!! Sparkling, clean, shiny, looks-like-hand-washed dishes!

I hear there's actually a band of renegade housewives who go across state lines once a month to stock up on Cascade for their neighborhoods. I think I'll try Seventh Generation next time, instead, but for now it's nice to have something that works.

Bonus joy:

My two favorite musicals are finally going on tour!! And they're both going to be within driving distance of me!! I hope you can share in the joy, too... check here and here for tour dates and cities of Les Miserables and Wicked. Of course I'll have to pawn off half of my belongings to be able to afford two tickets, but it's time to downsize anyway, right?

Either/Or or Both/And?

I just made caramel and it's absolutely delicious. But the stuff has 10x more bonding power than extra strength super glue.

I also just discovered that my dishwasher is broken.


I can either go stick my head in a hole and cry, or I can offer up this housewifery suffering for the success of my husband's endeavors and the conversion of poor sinners.

*thinking pause*

Actually, I think this is a both / and proposition.

My Favorite Bread-Making Tip

I haven't bought a loaf of bread in six months. Now I also no longer buy buns, rolls, french bread, pitas, pizza dough, or bagels. Why? Because I can make them!

I've learned a lot in the last year about making bread, but the single greatest trick that turned my bread from hockey puck to a heavenly cloud was: how to get the dough consistently to "double."

You know that little line in all bread recipes that reads: "Let rise in a warm place for about an hour, or until double"? Well... my house is always an ice box and after two or three hours my dough was barely poofing. The poor little baby dough was just too cold.

Yes, I'm sure all of you earthy baking homesteading women know this is the oldest trick in the book, but I didn't know about it until recently and it has given me confidence in my ability to make consistently good bread.

So here it goes.

My Favorite Bread-Making Tip

• Turn the oven to 350 for exactly 1 minute.
• Shut the oven off and turn the "oven light" on.

Congratulations. You've just created a "warm place" to put your bread for one hour. It works like magic every time.

Excuse me while I go be domestic.

Give Us This Day, by the very talented Jeffrey T. Larson

Here Comes the Sun

A Woman Reading by a Window by Vilhelm Hammershoi

I have dirty windows.

I keep my blinds closed almost all of the time because I can't bear to look out the windows. Instead of the outdoors I only see the dust, dead bugs, and paint on the windows themselves.

For some reason it never occurred to me that I could actually do something about it.

This morning I had an inner need to scrub something. My kitchen was clean: drat. My bathroom was clean: blast. My floors were clean: oh bother. So I eyed the windows. "Hmm...," I thought, "is the urge that strong?"

Yes. Yes it was.

So I started cleaning one of them. Well, having just the inside clean would do no good. Better take off the screen, and the storm windows, and wash the outside.

Hm... one clean window with four dirty ones doesn't work so well.

My darling husband helped me all morning and we got the windows sparkling clean (he used newspaper, which worked wonderfully!). I'm so happy I can't stop looking at them! The blinds are way up, the sunlight is pouring in, fresh air is flowing through the rooms.

I've caught myself four or five times remarking today, "My, what a lovely day it is!"

It's a great day to be alive!

Waiting by the Window by Carl Vilhelm Holsoe

Emotional Miscarriage

This has been a pretty difficult week. A death in the family, a $2200 and rising car mechanic's bill, and a dashed pregnancy hope. I've had false hope before in this via crucis of infertility, but I've always hardened myself so much that I hardly felt the sting. Making myself more vulnerable this time, it's never hurt so much. There were too many signs pointing to it this time.

Early this week, after looking at my chart, my NFP instructor instantly ordered a blood pregnancy test. "I've already taken a home test and it was negative," I said, steeling myself against any renewed hope. She insisted, "sometimes those can be wrong, every sign on your chart is pointing to it, and if you are pregnant we'd need to know right away, for the baby's sake."

It was a 2-day test HCG test. On the day between the tests I indulged thoughts I've never allowed myself to think before. I started daydreaming about pink dresses and hair ribbons and nursing and bedtimes and baths and soft fuzzy hair. I was picking out a local OB/GYN for the delivery, plotting out how to make my nieces' school year shorter so I could break in April for the baby, and looking up birthing books and classes. I had convinced myself in those 24 hours that I actually was pregnant. I was scheming an elaborate way to deliver the ecstasy-inducing news to my husband. Hearing from the doctor at this point, I thought, was just a formality.

A day into my daydreaming I got a call from my doctor's nurse. "Wow," I thought as I called her back, "I must be so pregnant they don't even need the second test." On the exterior I was acting doubtful and pessimistic; but I'd allowed myself the extravagance of hope.

"Your HCG level is a 3. The Dr. says you don't need to go back for the second test, you're not pregnant. I'm sorry."

Just like that, and it was all over.

"You're not pregnant." The words kept echoing as I struggled to comprehend their meaning. It may as well have been: "You're useless. Your marriage is sterile and fruitless. You're worthless as a woman. You're barren nothingness." I don't believe those words for a second, but for emotion's sake "you're not pregnant" felt the same as any of the others.

It's humiliating. It's devastating. It's agony. An emotional miscarriage.

Now the grieving process begins anew.

------------

1. I'm drinking more water. I usually wait until my lips are chapped and my throat is sore before slaking my thirst, but I'm an adult and need to take care of myself. 8 glasses a day it is.

2. I've lost eight pounds. Refocusing negative energy towards a positive goal is a small way to bring good out of suffering. By the grace of God, the intercession of my recently deceased Aunt, and a little renewed will power, I'm hoping to stay on this path.

3. I haven't gone to bed any night this week without having first done the dishes. It's easier to get up in the morning if the kitchen is clean.

Be encouraged. Read others' small successes this week and share your own.

Smashing the Devil Traps

To paraphrase Bishop Montrose (quoted yesterday), the devil can hide amidst the confusion and chaos of a messy cluttered home. Junk drawers, paper piles, smoldering laundry heaps, deep dark closets. Yah.

I don't know precisely when I decided to take a vacation from battling clutter. But for the past few months, "cleaning" meant moving the junk from one pile to another long enough to dust and sweep.

I'm usually rather orderly, but somehow I turned a blind eye to all of this stuff. I "never knew when I'd need it." Well, I still don't, but I'm now just assuming since I never have, I never will.

Over the last 36 hours there's been some intense purging. 8 garbage and 3 give away bags. Considering the size and contents of our home, that's probably downsizing by ¼. I've opened the blinds and windows and fresh air and sunlight are pouring in.

The house feels palpably holier and more peaceful. And I'm not joking.

The Great Purge

My car is still in Idaho on mechanic's blocks. We rented a car to come home.

Now begins the daunting task of unpacking. The problem is, there's nowhere to put some of this stuff. It's time to admit, my house is cluttered.

Pieces of paper that are so "important" they've been piled on my desk for a year, cell phone chargers for old phones that might come in handy some day, craft supplies from abandoned projects, books I didn't like the first time and don't intend to re-read, clothes I might fit into again if I ever start that exercise regimen.

I can't even bring myself to take a "before" picture because it's so bad. 

Bishop Donald Montrose of Stockton, CA wrote a powerful pastoral letter about spiritual warfare in which he stated:

Our homes should be sacred, peaceful places in which to live. Our homes need to be clean. We should not let them become dirty or allow disorder by having junk and filth accumulate in our drawers and closets. The power of evil abhors cleanliness.

I'm armed with holy water and trash bags: the devil's going down.

Trick to Keeping House Clean

1. Kept my house nearly spotless for a whole week! Know the trick? Never be at home. If you only come home to go to sleep and take a shower, it's amazing at how things stay clean.

2. Planted another garden bed! Actually it was compulsory planting. I left the seed packet out overnight when it rained and they all sprouted. After planting a full packet each of tangy mesculun, buttercrunch and salad bowl variety, we should have enough lettuce to feed.... half the county?

3. Saved $20 in cell phone overage charges (bleh) by buying an extra 100 minutes for $5.

Check out others' small successes and share your own at Faith & Family Live.

Long Days Begin

The long days are starting and my husband is away at the farm longer. Up by sunlight, home after dark.

I've been able to go with him to the farm these last few days, four-wheelering through the orchard and fields, fixing sprinklers, installing new irrigation, servicing balers, planting trees, getting my own farmer's tan. It's been glorious.

But today I must stay here and get some work done. 

John William Godward, (1861-1922, Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder)

And think about my husband... and make him delicious food, and clean his house and wash his laundry and try to make his homecoming tonight absolutely wonderful.

I love wifery.