My Vintage Treasures

It was stupendously sunny today, perfect for hunting through resale shops. I just discovered Vera (yellow placemats and napkins), at Fairy Godmother's House. The owner was nice enough to give us a little background information on this textile designer and now I'm hooked!
These will surely be a part of one of my 1950s-60s table settings. 

MoMA

This painting sums it all up. Enough said.

My Day So Far

Before 7 A.M. today I cleaned the cat box, one of the guinea pig cages and gave this cute little stink-pot a bath, (yes, he really smelled that bad). Then I discovered that someone hadn't shut the freezer drawer all the way, resulting in our no-frost freezer covering everything in snow and ice. Let me tell you, there is nothing more rewarding than chipping ice off the freezer and throwing away mounds of good food. I guess I have to go to the supermarket now.

Floor Litter

The first thing I notice this morning when I make my way out to the kitchen is all the floor litter. I think I've raised my children in a fairly decent manner, they say please and thank you, and hold the door for strangers on occasion, so I know there's no way they go to a friends house, blow their nose on a tissue and drop it on the floor. And they must think the floor is hungry because they are constantly feeding it; a few pretzels left for the floor in front of the TV, and squares of Wheat Chex cereal for the floor under the kitchen table. Every so often their concern for their bedroom floors comes to a head and I"ll find a shrunken chunk of carrot, (originally meant for the guinea pigs) behind their doors or underneath their beds.
The floors get cold in our house, especially in the hallway by the front door. I know this because my concerned children are constantly trying to cover that area with their coats. In other parts of the house they are less generous. The arctic area in front of the TV for example, usually only gets a stray sock, shorts or sweatshirt.
This will change with the onset of summer and the absence of tight school schedules. Coats won't be necessary and the cold and allergy season will have passed. Of course, this time of year means that the pools will be opening, and spickets will be turned back on to wash cars and fill water balloons, and my children's concern for the house being too hot will prompt them to leave wet towels and half filled sodas on every surface they possibly can.

Summer Chic

Another outfit try on, can you tell I'm trying to suck in my stomach? I find that I am much more interested in the wild, bright prints ah-la Lilly Pulitzer, than the staid tailored dresses I've been finding. How can I express myself and take this persona on at the same time? How did these women express themselves through their clothes? Did they try?
The other problem is shoes. For Pete's sake, I never wear high heels and some of these dresses absolutely require them. I know that women wore little ballet-type flats too, at least I think so, but I'm thinking these shoes were only worn around the house or with pedal-pusher pants. I know all this will become more clear as I delve deeper into my research, but I'm swimming around with a lot of questions right now. 

Easter on 5th Avenue

Vacation Snaps

Here are a few shots from our New York City vacation.

Cruise Director

I would love to say that every trip began with my husband and I pouring over websites and travel magazines while making detailed plans. What actually takes place is a series of minute conversations during the short blocks of time we have alone together. It’s the same conversation every time;
“We should go away”, I mumble while ironing my daughters uniform first thing in the morning.
“Yeah we should”, my husband will mumble back while tying his tie.
This time it’s a quick trip to New York City to visit with family, see some museums, and ride the subway. Usually I am completely organized for a trip, with possible itinerary lists and a neat pile of socks, underwear and a “good outfit” laid out in each of my kid’s rooms. I pre-iron everything that needs it and, on the day we leave, I’m up extra early bagging peanut butter sandwiches so no one will get cranky while traveling.
But on this trip I dropped the ball. I was so wrapped up with my school work that I ran out of time and told my children to pack them selves. They managed to remember the appropriate number of socks and underwear, but the “good outfits” didn’t quite make it all the way into their bags. We had the dress, but not the shoes for my daughter, and my son managed to get his nice pants and a long sleeved oxford into his bag, but forgot the belt, which he really does need to hold up his pants.

It turned out fine. We made it to church this morning and we all looked great, and I had a little epiphany while listening to the boys choir fill up the pointed arches of the church; that all the planning in the world can’t guarantee a perfect time. I know that this isn’t an earth-shattering kind of realization, and it just shrieks to be placed on a Hallmark greeting card under a glossy picture of a sunset or something. But that simple idea helped me regroup my thoughts.

I realized that even though I let careful packing fall off my radar, and even though I know I never again want to stand in front of my closet ½ an hour before leaving for vacation trying to pack my bag with matching clothes, this slap-dash trip turned out to be one of the most fun we’ve had as a family.
Will it stick? Will I be able to leave the cruise directors hat behind for our next vacation? I think so, after all, nobody seemed to miss the planned itinerary, or my peanut butter sandwiches.

Dressing The Part

This past weekend I went into Philadelphia to find some vintage dresses to prepare to become, for a little while anyway, a 1950s early 1960s housewife. The sizes were very odd; tight mid-sections with ample bust darts in the front. Of course, the bras and girdles of the times must have helped women with these issues and that got me thinking about women's furnishings in general, and how they have changed since the 50s. I'm not sure how far I'll go with that topic, but it does have me thinking... 

LoLo & Gretch Dahling

Can't say enough about about the tiny boutique in Philly called LoLo & Gretch Dahling. Sam and I had such a great time there yesterday we went back today and we each got one of these great belt purses. There are more than a few fun spots inside The Antiquarian Market, we'll go back soon. 

Who Cleans What

I admit it, I like cleaning, when I have the time to do it. I can get a mild thrill from scubbing off a weeks worth of stains from the stove top or gutting my kitchen cabinets and throwing away all the past due cans, the long forgotten bags of pretzels that have scattered their cache of salt all over the shelf.
The bathrooms are another story; I really don't like to clean the bathrooms in my house. Most likely this aversion comes from the fact that the two males living here seem to think that we have hotel maid service which will come in and remove the globs of rock hard toothpaste they've left in the sink, or sweep away the minute hairs left on the floor in front of the mirror, (why are they constantly trimming those short haircuts anyway?). My husband won't help with the bathrooms anymore. He used to when the kids were little but then he declared that he detested the job too much and that he would help out with something else instead. Needles to say, much like Pavlov's dogs, as soon as I step into his bathroom with my mop in hand, I'm completely ticked off. I find myself mumbling and grumbling every time, and often it occurs to me that I might not mind the job half as much if he would only express some gratitude for his shiny tiolet. I imagine my rush of joy as he runs his fingers along the slick-clean bathroom walls and squeals over the splatter-free mirror, "Wow, you're amazing, I am such a damn lucky guy!"

For more opinions on house cleaning check out today's New York Times article by Lisa Belkin in the Sunday Styles section.

Morning Reading

This article popped up on my Comcast home page this morning, next to a split picture of a donkey head and a retro looking housewife. Enjoy.

What The Young Boys Are Reading in New Delhi

Textbook: Donkeys Better Than Housewives
By Associated Press

NEW DELHI - A textbook used in western India compares housewives to donkeys and concludes that the pack animals make more loyal companions, a newspaper reported Tuesday.
"A donkey is like a housewife," declares the Hindi language primer approved by the state of Rajasthan, according to The Times of India newspaper. "It has to toil all day and, like her, may even have to give up food and water."
"In fact, the donkey is a shade better," continues the text meant for 14-year-olds, "for while the housewife may sometimes complain and walk off to her parents' home, you'll never catch the donkey being disloyal to his master."
The book, reportedly used in Rajasthani schools, has sparked protests from the women's wing of the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party, which controls the state government and approved the text, the Times reported.
Rajasthan is known to be one of India's most traditional states, where conservative attitudes toward women predominate, and state education officials said the comparison was meant to be funny, nothing more.
"The comparison was made in good humor," state education official A.R. Khan was quoted as saying.
He added, however, that "protests have been taken note of and the board is in the process of removing" the reference.

Messy Desk Comments

For some reason a comment option did not appear at the end of my last post, so here is another opportunity to comment if you wish...

Messy Desk

Do you ever wake up one morning after a particularly difficult, busy week and suddenly notice what a mess your house has become? Well I try not to have those days too often. I am so busy with school and my kids that I've trained myself NOT to see the the stray Cheerio nesting under the dishwasher, the sock in a damp crumpled ball by the front door. How do I live in such filth? How can I gloat over the poor souls on the "Clean Sweep" show when I obviously have a touch of the slob in myself? Because I am an organizing freek.
Now wait, there's no contradiction here, stay with me.
You see, I used to be a cleaning queen, everything had to be shiny and dust free; there had to be visable vacuum tracks in the carpet at all times. I can still get stoned when walking through the Organization aisles at Target. But then the kids got older and I went back to school and I just haven't been the same since.
I make myself ignore the slop around me because I know if I get started doing just one thing, my whole day will be lost in a cleaning frenzy. A typical cleaning jag could go something like this: While making a trip to the basement to do a load of laundry, the over-flowing wrapping paper boxes will catch my eye. After an hour at that, I might head back to the kitchen to wash my hands and notice that the sink really needs a good scrubbing, and when I open the cabinet to get out the Soft Scrub, it will be clear that before I take another step, I'll have to clean out the detergent cabinet too. This could go on and on, from room to room, and who, I ask you, has that kind of time?
Thus, the mantra I live by is this: don't start what you can't possibly finish in the next ten minutes.
My timer just went off.