Irons in the Fire

I love to iron! There, I've said it. Ironing is one household chore that has never been a chore to me.

When we were kids there were no perma press fabrics and my mom would need to iron all the cotton clothing. She would sprinkle everything with water first, roll them up inside a bath towel and place them in the refrigerator. She'd pull out each piece of clothing, one at a time and iron. I'm pretty sure there weren't any steam irons back then.

I think perhaps the one of the reasons I don't mind ironing is that I love to sew and you're required to press the seams as you work through the construction. I find it to be relaxing.

My previous iron was driving me crazy because it didn't have a teflon soleplate and my spray starch was sticking and burning. Yuck. I bought a new one.... very inexpensive.



My basic requirement is that an iron have a burst of steam capability.

Once, in a fit of extravagance, I invested in a pricey Rowenta iron. I was not impressed. It didn't do anything different than the inexpensive model and it broke in about the same time frame.

I've been ironing up a storm the past few days as I organize one of my linen closets. The people we bought this house from informed us that their architect who provided the plans was a woman. Whoa, you can sure tell by the number of closets she included. Each bedroom has it's own linen closet - that's four linen closets. There really aren't enough towels and sheets to fill them all so I've set aside one closet to house some out of season sweaters (on the very top shelf) and my table linens on the bottom.



Phew, that looks like a lot of tablecloths and napkins but I made most of them myself. Just a square piece of fabric, hemmed on all four sides. I rarely, if ever, use paper napkins.

So, now about you? Do you like to iron or avoid it like the plague?

Oh, by the way, my most dreaded household chore is emptying the dishwasher. I hate it!!!

North-South, East-West

When I began publishing my photoblog over 4 years ago the intention was to chronicle some of the old farmhouses, barns and outbuildings that were disintegrating, being burned down or torn down to make way for advancing development.

During the past year I became very aware of an odd visual that I'll call North-South, East-West. I've entertained the thought about producing a photo book demonstrating this clash of then and now. What am I referring to? I have found that on the north side of a road an old farmhouse will stand and across the road will be a new McMansion. It's just a strange juxtaposition.

We're about 50 miles west of Chicago and this has now become the farthest outer edge of the greater Chicagoland area.

These aren't very good photographs. I snapped them quickly today while I was out running errands. I just wanted you to see what I'm talking about.

Looking south is a beautiful old brick farmhouse. There are some nice outbuildings behind the house.



Just across from the farmhouse on the north side of the road is this house:



That is the back of a single family home, not a public building! I am guessing that it's close to 20,000 sq. ft. It's three stories and probably 6,000 sq. ft. on each floor.

I have counted many, many similar North-South, East-West visuals.

In my blog surfing I've discovered that this is not something that's only happening in our area but in places across this country and around the world. Do you have such crazy housing situations in your area?

Something came up........

and I gotta take a day off.

Promise you'll be here when I return?

Monday Morning Staff Meeting

Good morning everyone. How was your weekend?

We flirted with one day of warm weather here in northern Illinois but now we're back to cold and rainy. Sigh.

I'll admit that I'm an armchair adventure junkie and my favorite is Deadliest Catch. Like the commercial says, "If it ain't hell, they ain't happy." It's hard to imagine working in such a harsh environment. I'm also addicted to the show that follows about the people who are dropped off in the Alaskan wilderness, travel across country and try to survive. Fascinating stuff.

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Donuts this morning.....



or grab an apple.



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I want to thank everyone for taking part in the interesting discussion about whether Grandma was happy. You had so many thoughtful things to say.

One of the commenters, Lynn, is a lawyer, which got me thinking that I need a lawyer in my lineup of peeps. You never know when I might need one! Heck, I've got bartenders and flooring divas, a lawyer would round out the list. So Lynn, if you're interested in being my office blog lawyer, let me know and I'll add your name to the list.

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In addition to my homemade laundry soap, I've added Heidi's (the Milk Man's WIfe) homemade fabric softener to my laundry room arsenal. I was skeptical about it because of the vinegar, which led me to believe my towels would smell like Italian dressing. Not so. It works great and leaves everything soft and fresh.

Heidi's Softener

2 cups hair conditioner
2 cups white vinegar
6 cups water

Mix all together, shake well. Shake before each use.

I purchased Suave conditioner for $1. The bottle contains 2 cups. Perfect. There are different scents, I chose a fruit scent. A gallon of white vinegar was $1.79. The final result does not smell overwhelmingly vinegary. Online searches assure me that the vinegar also rinses residue from the washing machine.

Try it!

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I'm still hoping to show you how to create a little bit of country for yourself but the weather is not cooperating. It's something I want to do outside and hopefully we'll get some sunshine so I can set up a photo shoot. Stay tuned.

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I'm interested in knowing what you guys are reading because I'm in need of suggestions. Currently I'm standing on the precipice of giving up on Doris Kearns Goodwin's "Team of Rivals". Omigosh, I love history and anything about Lincoln but this is interminably long .... long.... long. The amount of research she did for this book had to have been monumental but it could certainly have been distilled down at least 400 pages.

I know I'm in trouble when I can only read one to two pages at a time before zoning out.

Which brings me to a habit of mine. I love to read at night before I fall asleep. The Farmer wants lights out immediately and he is asleep within a few minutes. In order not to wake him I bought one of those book lights and I read under the covers like a little kid!!! I make myself laugh everytime I do this and it's become a happy little habit of mine.

Do you read under the covers?

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Thanks for joining for yet another edition of "At Home....". I honestly think I'm running out of things to say. My photoblog has 734 posts and this one has 529. That's 1,263 editions of me blabbing. That's simply crazy. So now it's your turn......talk.

EDIT. NOTE: Update - Lynn has agreed to be my legal counsel and she now appears as Lawyer Lynn in my list of peeps. You'll notice that my electrician has changed. Neighbor Bill found a new job and is too busy to work for me. I've hired my brother-in-law Mike. There were be new positions available in the future.

The Way Back Machine

The time: Summer, 1982
The place: Cumberland Drive, Clarksville, Tennessee

My mom and stepdad were living in the beautiful brick home on Cumberland Drive and it was horribly hot and humid. There were no public pools available to us and the old creek out in the country was 20 miles away.

What did we do? My mom filled up a wash bucket and we plopped my son inside. He was happy, contained in his own little swimming pool.

Simple pleasures.

Road Trip - Yelapa, Mexico - Part Two

We're going to continue our visit to the sleepy little Mexican village of Yelapa. It's a 45 minute boat trip down the coast from Puerto Vallarta.

The waterfall is at the top edge of the village.



After spending some time in the cool waterfall area we walk down, down, down into the winding streets of the village. Electricity first came to the village 9 years ago and as you can see there are lines everywhere!



That's the Farmer on the far right, with his Indiana Jones backpack carrying all the essential items for a proper adventure. That includes water. When we were flying in a tiny plane from Belize to Guatemala, the pilot stopped to pick up a 20 gallon container of water. He said we'd need it if we crash landed in the jungle!!

When we were in Mazatlan we visited a stunningly beautiful Spanish colonial cathedral. Here's the simple beauty of this village's small church. Wooden benches and simple crosses enhances it's beauty.



Since there are no roads, there are no cars or trucks. I did see one ATV but that was it. All hauling is done the low tech way.



These guys were loaded up with sand bags down on the beach and they're headed to a construction project somewhere on the hillside.

I was shocked to see this flyer taped to a pole. I don't read Spanish but the photographs look all the world like quilts to me. When I got home and translated the text I discovered that it was announcing a quilting class. HUH? It asked that you bring your sewing machine with you. I was surprised to think that there was even one machine in this place and equally astounded that there were enough to have a class. I suppose they get their fabric in Puerto Vallarta or maybe on the internet. There are internet cafe's in the village. Progress!



All the children in the village are required to attend school. This is a colorful after-school facility where they can engage in creative arts activities. They also teach about green issues, recycling and so forth. There are recycling bags at key points all over the village. This is tranferred by boat back to Puerto Vallarta.



When we reach the highest point in the village we're rewarded with a beautiful view of the beach area.



We were told that basic rustic palapas along the beach rent for about $25 a night. The Farmer and I have vowed to return someday and sleep under those thatch roofs. They don't leak!

When the boat pulled up to the dock earlier in the day, our tour guide David told us that when we arrived at the beach the pie ladies would arrive. PIE LADIES??? There are pie ladies in Yelapa??? Who could ever guess that I would travel 4,000 miles to find some pie! Here's one of the pie ladies with her goodies.That's someone else's hand reaching into the wallet, not the Farmer. Everyone knows that Indiana Jones would never carry a wallet.



They time their pie baking perfectly to coincide with the arrival of the tour boat. Their pies were hot out of the oven. It was right here on this beach that I decided that my quest for the perfect piece of pie would now fall into two categories - Professional and Amateur. Hoosier Mama currently holds the professional title but these unnamed pie ladies in Yelapa hold the title of Best Amateur Pie Bakers.

We bought two slice, one cheese and one banana. If I remember correctly they were about $2.50 per slice. If we'd had more time on the beach I would have tried them all. Seriously.



The crusts were thin and amazingly crisp. The cheese pie was not a custard and not a traditional cheesecake. It was delicious and mild in flavor. We tasted both and the Farmer declared the cheese pie was his. He wasn't crazy about the banana. I loved it. These pies were both very firm in texture and you could hold them and eat, not needing a fork.

Beer and pie? Together?? You bet. I am not a beer drinker but this Pacifico beer was good.



The bananas were not the type we eat in the U.S. I'm guessing they're a type of plantain. If you look you'll see that when they're baked they turn a pink color. They're still quite firm after being baked. Our bananas would turn to mush. I've to go back to Yelapa if only for some pie and beer.



After stuffing ourselves and lying in the sun it's time to return to civilization.


Some nice people we met on the boat.

Thanks for coming along to Yelapa, Mexico. If you're looking for a rustic vacation spot that's off the beaten track, this might be for you. And who knows, you might run into a farmer and his wife.

Road Trip - Yelapa, Mexico- Part One

Earlier this week we discussed whether to call our weekly trips Road Trips or Field Trips. I've decided to use both.

Field Trip will refer to an excursion that requires one-tank of gasoline or less. A Road Trip will be the one where you start whining, "Are we there yet?"

I developed pneumonia in March and I didn't get a chance to share the final leg of the cruise with you. It's time to finish that journey. Are you ready?

THE DISTANCE: 3,924.49 miles!!
THE DESTINATION: Yelapa, Mexico

That's almost 4,000 miles and it's going to require planes, trains, automobiles, big boats, little boats and shoe leather to arrive at our destination.

The cruise ship arrives in Puerto Vallarta early in the morning to the sight of new construction.



There are both types of pirate ships at the dock. The kind that serve booze and show you a good time.....



and the kind that belongs to a Mexican politician. Yeah, the other kind of pirate.



When we walk off the cruise ship there's a path that leads to a catamaran that's going to take us down the coast to Yelapa.

Did I mention that the Farmer thinks he's Indiana Jones? That's OK, I've decided that I like being his Marion. We like to find rural, rustic places where there are no roads. We found it....Yelapa.

The cruise down the coast is so relaxing. Look at the beautiful water with land barely visible.



Yelapa is a sleepy little fishing village and we're told it's just around the bend.



Have you ever read the book, Lost Horizon? That's what it feels like when you see Yelapa for the first time. It's like stumbling upon Shangri-la. The small houses and palapas climb up the hillside.



Small boats are tied in the sheltered bay.



Welcome to Yelapa. Let's look around.



First, here's proof of my theory that there is a "buzzard's roost" in every small community around the world. All the men are gathered to talk about...whatever!



And here's another theory of mine. Every community around the world has a "bosca". There's not an English word that works as well. "Bosca" is Polish for bossy/busybody. This is the town Bosca. She doesn't speak English nor Spanish, she speaks a native Indian language but the doesn't stop her from making sure the tourists head the right direction up in to the village.



Where's you going?



Everybody over here.



The description of our day trip said there's a waterfall just 400 yards from the dock. I forgot that 400 yards translates to 4 football fields. Uphill. Over some cobblestones.

It's worth the climb, don't you think?



One of the guys from our boat takes a dip. He says it's cold. I'm not brave enough, are you?



This town did not get electricity until 9 years ago. And now they've all got cell phones and satellite dishes.



I don't know how I feel about that. I'm sure they're glad to come into the 21st century but wouldn't have it been magic to stay here back then and see the night sky?

Come back tomorrow. There's too much to see to do it all in one day. Tomorrow we're going to walk through the little town and down some steep stairs to the beach. There's a big surprise waiting for us down there. Don't be late!

Was Grandma Happy?

While digging through some computer files this evening, I came across something I'd written in answer to a young woman whose grandmother had just passed away. She had wondered if her grandmother had been happy during her life, seeing as how she was raised in a time when women's options were so limited.



I thought you might be interested to read my response.

Feminism brought with it a world of opportunities but remember what you learned in science class, with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. What that means is that we exchange one set of problems for another.

I was a kid growing up in the 1950's, and my mom was your grandmother in a sense. Yes, these women were isolated in ways you cannot imagine. Families only had one car which meant there was no loading the kids up and going to the store, to the park, or anywhere else for that matter. Chores were harder. There was no permapress or microwaves. But it's a mistake to believe that women were sitting around thinking how they were "forced" to stay at home with their children. That's just the way it was, there weren't alot of other options so basically they didn't worry about what options they were missing in life. I'm kind of laughing thinking about the vision of my mom sitting around "pining to be a lawyer".

It was a different time and hard to realize from your perspective. They did have other women in the same situation to whom they could open up and they did share. They were probably on more initimate terms than your contemporaries. They shared in the old school way, low tech, face-to-face over the backyard fence!

I have alot to say about the women's movement and feminism in general and they're not all positive. Yes, they pushed and forged necessary changes but there was alot of carnage along the way, and today's young women are sometimes left with weighty expectations. I guess my answer is YES!!! Your Grandma was happy, not all the time, but are you happy all the time?

Your grandmother;s day was a less complicated time with simpler problems and simple pleasures. I think it is important that we have these conversations because as you have pointed out it's not always clear how things were and how sweeping the changes have been. Feminist issues are not now, nor ever have been black and white. Remember, to every action.......

May your grandmother rest in peace.


I suppose the point I was trying to make is that it's a mistake to look at the past through a present-day lens.

Too Much Stuff

The temperatures have not improved. It's cold, rainy and bone chilling damp but I can't wait any longer. You simply would not believe what has accumulated in our garage over the winter. This photo montage tells the ugly story.



This is an absolute disaster. Somehow we find ourselves with a three-car garage with zero cars parked inside. I cannot sleep at night knowing all this mess lies one story down. It's crazy making stuff.

It's pathetic and it's got to stop.



Some of the stuff, like the cardboard, was easily dispatched with this morning's garbage pickup.



The old refrigerator is going require them to come out here with a special truck. In the next picture you'll see the back of a cool 1960's walnut hutch that my daughter has yet to retrieve for her new apartment. Unfortunately we must keep our large garbage can and recycling bin in the garage or the animals get into it and then I'm doing garbage duty on two acres.



One corner is filled with 800 lbs. of porcelain tile yet to be laid.



Let's not forget that my son and I have already laid down 1,100 square feet by ourselves.

One dead ironing board, two broken vacs and a carpet cleaner in need of repair. (Sing that to the tune of Partridge in a Pear Tree).



You've seriously got to wonder how this could happen. I swear there's no excuse.

EXCEPT.....I found evidence that this stuff has been breeding at night when I'm not looking! They're drinking cheap white wine in a box and partying into the wee hours. Fourteen days later there's a new crop of junk.

I have evidence!!!!

My garage sale junk mated with my gardening equipment. The result? This mini-garden rake with NO TEETH!!



And look at this:



An unborn broom still in the hanging basket's womb....... not yet fully developed - no handle!!!

Two days of work and things are starting to look a little more organized.



Wish me luck because I'm going back in there tomorrow. If they've been partying again, somebody's gonna pay.

More Wanderlust

No, that's not the Farmer and that's not me. I took this photo a couple years ago at a beautiful park that is the location of lots of wedding day photo shoots. I don't have a clue who these people are!

I needed something to illustrate my ponderings about my lingering wanderlust. A psychologist would have a field day with all y mentions of boots, vintage travel trailers and the Laura Ingalls Wilder trail. I just feel the need to get outta Dodge.

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who's feeling the pinch of being in the sandwich generation.

I love the Farmer. We have such fun together and after 30 years we've got most of the kinks worked out. If it's just him and I there's rarely a problem. Unfortunately, there are complicated career issues, health issues and now we're starting to be squished by our responsibilities of aging, no....aged parents.

I'm squished I tell you.

I do not believe that everything and every detail of someone's life is blog fodder. I'm a little sad that some in my generation were the ones to start the idea that anything goes. There are days when it seems like a free-for-all out there. Being open and honest is important, no one knows this better than me. But what you'd say in a therapists office is not necessarily proper at a cocktail party or a blog.

There are times when I feel like a dinosaur because I believe in manners, propriety, modesty (whoa....that's in short supply), humility and a regard for others. I've been known to raise my eyebrow at behavior that would have been unheard of in my day. What happened to "proper"? I want some proper back.

Where is all this rambling leading me? Back to being squished. Some of you have asked about the Other Mother because there are some funny tales to be told. But now the tales would only be sad and scary. Sometimes as children our duty is to preserve our aging parents dignity. And sometimes we're required to do that without anyone's help. That is hard as well.

So for now, until I can ride off into the sunset with the Farmer, hauling a vintage travel trailer, I'll pretend to be a Boy Scout and repeat my pledge (with a few changes):

On my honor, I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my family and to obey the Laws of Propriety and Humility;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.

Amen.

Monday Morning Staff Meeting

Good morning everyone!

You will notice a lack of goodies on the table this morning. Instead I have an intern who will be preparing one egg, plain omelets. This is a result of yesterday's trip in the Way Back Machine in which we were reminded of times (and thin thighs) gone by. There's black coffee, tea and water in the back of the room. Sorry, it's a dietary austerity program I'm instituting.

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Thanks for joining me in the laundry room last week as we made our own laundry soap.


Wash Day - Taken at Durant-Peterson House

The exercise also gained me another "Peep". Life in Red Shoes has been named my official Laundry Nazi. If you have any tough laundry problems we're going to be tapping into her expertise. It's good to know that someone's on your side, especially in the case of dingy whites.

I hope you had some fun on our Little House on the Prairie adventure. I'm going to ask for your advice on our weekly trips. Should I call them road trips or field trips? Field trip has an interesting farm connotation, don't you think? Anyway, let me know what you think.

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I worked very hard in my high school typing class and landed a job out of high school as a typesetter. As a result I can type pretty fast but not always with the greatest accuracy. When I leave a comment on someone's blog I usually sign it with my handle; Suzanne - the Farmer's Wife. Recently my fingers got away from me and just before I hit the post comment button I noticed I'd typed

Suzanne - the Farter's Wife

Well, that's not true. NO! Never, not him.

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Eariler this week I found a magazine at the store called, "Cowboys and Indians". Have you seen it? It was a very slick publication with beautiful pictures, gorgeous ads and an article about the largest personal landowner in the U.S., Ted Turner. One of the ads was for some unbelievable cowboy boots made by a company called ROCKETBUSTER. I'm just not understanding the type of expendable income that needs to be at your disposal to spend $3,500 on a pair of boots.

There we go....the Rocketbuster link is now repaired. Go check out the boots covered with cherries!

I am very sure that no honest-to-goodness cowboys would be caught dead in these. They're probably just for the cowboy wannabes or the country's largest landholder.

I wouldn't refuse those mules with the skull design though. Rocketbuster can feel free to call me and arrange a boot trial.

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I did receive the book about Laura Ingall Wilder's time in Westville, Florida and it was a big disappointment. It simply contained information that the author had gleaned from the county court house and some interviews with residents back in 1979. She simply ascertained that Laura, Almonzo and Rose had lived with Peter Ingalls but there were no personal recollections of their time in the area.

My family land is located only 10 miles as the crow flies from where Laura lived and that pretty much guarantees that my relatives knew her.

I did learn, to my great surprise, that Westville was once a thriving community with a hotel, logging and turpentining operations and more. However, the economy moved to newer technologies, the Naval supply contracts ran out and it became a very small community once more. My memories from the 1950's and early '60's were of this very, very small town with only a post office and a country store.

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We ran out of time last week before we could discuss how you can carve a little bit of country for yourself, no matter where you live. We'll try to do that this week but the Farmer now tells me that the weatherman is uttering the "S" word again. My little bit of country involves the outdoors, so we'll see.

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OOOPS...forgot to mention that I discovered the local community college waives tuition for residents over 60 years of age. That would include me. I'm pretty sure there are restrictions, perhaps only if space is available in the class. I've taken several of their anthropology classes but I'm waiting for another archaeology dig class to be added. There's a jewelry making class (metal casting) or photography.

Hey - the college just passed a $168 MILLION DOLLAR referendum so I best get the most out of my tax dollars. RIght?

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That's it for me. What's on your mind? I'd love to hear what you're up to this week.

Don't forget to let me know - Road Trip or Field Trip?

Thanks for taking time out of your busy day to spend some time here, "At Home....."

The Way Back Machine

The time: June, 1979
The place: Silverton, Colorado

One of the Farmer's first jobs out of college was working for one of the largest producers of dairy products in the U.S. He was invited to participate in a business seminar that was being held at a resort in Silverton, Colorado. We'd only been married for 6 months and luckily for me, the wives were invited along for the trip.

We flew a jet from Chicago to Denver. That's a story in itself, as days before our departure a jumbo jet crashed after taking off from O'Hare, killing everyone onboard. It made for some nervous travelers on this trip. This is the plane we took from Denver to Silverton, although I remember it being much smaller.



We stayed in this dramatic resort on the side of mountain.



Not much sleep for flatlanders who were afraid of sliding down the mountainside in the middle of the night.

Look how young the Farmer looks! And relaxed too. He was a workaholic even back then.



One of the activities offered at the resort was a trail ride up into the mountains where you'd go fishing in a lake. Most of the group from his company decided to participate. I don't remember alot of the wives being along on this trail ride.

I pretended to be a cowgirl. I'd never spent more than 20 minutes on a horse in my life.



The Farmer kept looking back to make sure I was still in the saddle.



We rode for about an hour, up into the high country. There's was a shack where they kept all the tackle. Yes, it was THAT beautiful.



Do you see all those guys at the water's edge? They're the big executives from the company. They thought it was a good idea to walk down to the edge of the lake right in front of the shack and just start fishing. Hmmmmm.....

It seemed to me that they never had a grandpa who loved to fish. The kind of grandpa that required you to learn to fish if you ever wanted to spend any quality time with him. Nope, they never had a fishing grandpa.

I did.

My grandpa showed us how to walk around a lake and scout the holes where the fish might be hiding. Like this one.



He taught us how to bait a hook, be patient and jerk the line to set the hook. He taught us how to reel 'em in and string 'em on a line.

And that's what I did.



Lots of them.



So many that we were able to have the resort's chef cook them up for appetizers at that evening's meal.

The executives on the other side of the lake? They weren't very good sports about the whole thing. They kept asking the Farmer, "What's your wife doing over there?"

"Oh, nothing," he answered. "Just a little something her grandpa taught her."

NOTE: I do not remember EVER being that skinny. The South Beach Diet starts today!! Yes, our glasses are so 1970's.