HNY

I hope 2012 was kind to you, and that 2013 brings many blessings.

I've been reflecting a lot on what I want out of the next year. Mostly, I want very banal things: to spend more time doing what I enjoy, be a better mother, make a bit more money, lose a bit of weight (alright, I'd really like to lose rather a lot of weight, but I'll be happy with losing a bit at this point). I want to actually sleep through the night. I want to stop the batshit insanity of eating food that makes me sick just because it's tasty. I want to keep the house much tidier, and I want spend more time on creative pursuits. (Oh, it is to laugh.)

I'm taking myself offline for a few weeks. God knows that won't affect my posting schedule much, but I am hoping to come back with a clearer sense of purpose... or at least a clean house.

Today

I haven't forgotten about this blog, nor its literally tens of readers. (Hi, guys! How's it going?)

Rather, I have been paralyzed with uncertainty. What is Fifties in the Future? What does it mean? How can I possibly post when I haven't even come close to my housekeeping goals? How can I post when my life is more like I Love Lucy (assuming Lucy were swamped with children and pets, suffering from domestic ennui, and not getting anywhere like enough sleep), and less like Leave it to Beaver?

Then it hit me.

This is my blog. I can post whatever I damn well want.

Shocking, right?

With that in mind, what is Fifties in the Future? Oh, I am so glad you asked, because I'm about to tell you.

Fifties in the Future is where lofty housekeeping goals collide with sleep deprivation. It's where nearly Great Depression-levels of thrift hold hands with disposable sandwich bags. It's where I can obsess about gluten in only the way a celiac parent can, and dream about French pastry. It's where I'm allowed to bribe myself with chocolate for the housework (I just finished a square earned for hitting inbox zero with the dishes), and post tips on how to butcher a whole hog leg on your kitchen counter.

It's a place for me to be me, in all my messy and imperfect glory.

So holla, everyone. I am The Housewife. Welcome to Fifties in the Future.

Can Scarce Believe It, or Day 54

It would appear that if you fail to regularly update your blog, people stop reading. I'd feign amazement, but doing so would be so disingenuous that I don't think anyone could suspend their disbelief. Still, can you believe that shit? My mind is blown.

To recap the last few weeks:

• My house ain't clean, not even by the most generous standards
• Miriam turned 5. I would love to show you photos, but the files were corrupted coming off the camera
• Likewise, I'd love to show you photographic evidence of Elise returning to school, and Miriam starting same, but see the point above about file corruption
• Sam has a tentative diagnosis of celiac disease, pending further testing when he is old enough for it to actually be effective -- this has had a rather deleterious effect on our ability to eat out, which is not a sorrow for our wallets or my waistline
• Sam and Ginny are at this very moment dancing to Queen, and I would love to video record it for you, but they have a hit or miss approach to clothing themselves... and today is an emphatic miss

Friday wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

 Enjoy the weekend, punks.

A Case of the Mondays, or Day 32

Let's hit the ground running, because I have about a million things to do today, and I'm honestly still all kinds of cranked-up from yesterday.

So hey, have you joined our Facebook community yet? Because if you haven't, there's really no excuse for that sort of behaviour. It's like reading this blog, but in smaller, crankier bites. Who wouldn't want that?

Daily tally of fail

Note: These are the things I actually managed to accomplish

1.  Make and serve breakfast
2. Clean up breakfast
3. Review the menu for the current day and the next and compare it to what’s currently available in the home. Make note of anything that needs to be prepared ahead of time or shopping that needs to get done
4. Begin long-advance preparations for dinner (such as making dessert)
5. Wipe down kitchen work surfaces
6. Sweep or mop the kitchen floor
7. Have a quick lunch
8. Prepare a special dish for dinner
9. Serve dinner

You see number 7 up there? Have a quick lunch. That's where my day went to hell.

First of all, what kind of noob thinks "Hey, the kids are playing quietly upstairs - now is the perfect time to grab a quick lunch"?!?!?!?!?!? That should have been pinging me every parental alarm. But no, I decided to sit down with some nosh and a book.

Even when Ginny came up to me to announce "Sam made a puddle", I didn't feel concern. I just thought he'd taken his diaper off and peed on the floor.

Imagine my surprise when I found the bathroom sink running, and an inch of water on the bathroom floor.

Dramatic recreation

Chore of the day
Nowai. Didn't even go there. Fuck all got deep cleaned, although I did take the time to learn how to replaster a ceiling, because the water damage in our dining room is breathtaking.

Some reflections on the day
Children are evil. That is all.

A Tan and Sandy Silence, or Days 10 - 31

You see what I did there, with the John D. MacDonald reference? Anybody? No? Moving on, then...

Not shown: My indignation that the Wikipedia entry for this book is a mere 3 sentences long.

We've had three quiet weeks here, haven't we? Of course, my life off the blog hasn't been quiet. Notable highlights from the last 21 days include spending a week at the cottage, and helping one of my best friends get married. Well, I say "help", but what I really mean is "show up and not cock up the extremely low expectations she had of me as her bridesmaid." I'd like to think I managed it. She's still talking to me, so that's got to be a good sign, right? Right.

The downside to all this fun is that the house is about as awful now as it was when I started the 50s in the Future project last month. If I want to brightside this development, I could argue that this gives me an opportunity to greater hone my housewifery skills. Huzzah? Then again, I could just as easily argue that this is a festering crap pile of suck and responsibility, which would also be true.

Welcome to Day One: Redux.

Catching Up, or Day Nine

Happy birthday, Ginny Bev!

That's what we said on Sunday.

Cap'in Ameyiga! He's her favourite Avenger.

By the end of Sunday, I was actively angry at how messy my house was. My house, that I had worked hard on all week. But it was to remain messy, because on Monday I had to take this guy:

In a shocking move, Sam came out in favour of cake

and this girl:

Be glad I didn't use the photo of you licking your hot dog

to various medical appointments. So housework was not a happening thing yesterday, because I was barely home.

And now I'm alternating between frustration and despondency over getting yet more insalubrious news regarding the baby's health. You would think I would be used to it by now, but I'm not. So the house isn't getting cleaned especially well today, either.

I'm also starting the process of packing a family of six and a dog for a week at the cottage, so I'm not going to be focusing much on the deep cleaning this week, either. Because man, that's a lot of packing. And laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.

See you tomorrow!

Screw you, Saturday, or Day Six

You see this shit? I haven't done any of this shit today. Well, I made coffee. That's about it.

It turns out that Saturday wasn't a great day for tying up loose ends, and the only preparation for tomorrow's dinner I've made have been buying groceries.

I rather unvintagely slept in until after 10am, and then we ran errands as a family. We went to the dollar store five and dime, and did our shopping at big grocery store chains marketing, in our 21 year old Toyota Previa Buick Century. I was bitchy and hormonal bright and gay, and the children were psychotic demonspawn quiet and well-mannered.

I will begin some long-advance preparations for tomorrow's dinner, though. Tomorrow is Ginny's 3rd birthday, and she has requested a cake that looks like a watermelon. Huzzah! Watermelon cake!

Housewife - Extra Crispy, or Day Five

I ventured out of housewife mode today in order to shoot a golf tournament, so today's blog post isn't going to be an extensive one.

I did make like a good 50s housewife and enlist the help of Grandma, though. My incomparably superlative mother in law watched the children while I spent the day out on a golf course, getting sunburnt and giving my camera a workout. (A quick shoutout to Atlantic Collision Group and Riviera Parque for putting out a lunch that had options for all sorts of dietary restrictions, without seeming stressed out by it. It was honestly refreshing to be able to eat lunch without making myself sick.)

I didn't do any ironing today, but I wouldn't have done any even if I had been home.

Sunburnt Anna is out. Peace.

Thursday Doesn't Even Start, or Day Four

Let's hit the ground running, shall we?

You know what the really interesting thing is about building successful habits? You have to keep doing them, or they stop being successful. I know, right? My mind is blown.

I've had a miserable, PMSy sort of day, that included listening to a lot of Dixie Chicks and weeping, then listening to a lot of Gogol Bordello and trying to teach Miriam and Ginny how to pronounce "Immigraniada" (although that bit didn't meet as much success as you might think). I also spent more time than I care to admit imagining ways that Eugene Hutz could guest star on The Simpsons, possibly as Lionel Hutz's cousin or brother. Then I remember Phil Hartman, and that didn't help the hormonal weepies.

Gypsy punk is totally 50s, right?

Daily chore
THURSDAY
Wash clothes.  Not everyone had an automatic washer so many 50's housewives still had to do this by hand.  It was an all day chore.

Or, you know, the housewife in question could have an automatic washer, and some cramps, and maybe decide to just run a couple of loads through the wash and call it a day. Hey, that's two loads of laundry that weren't washed yesterday, and that's nothing to sneeze at.

Some reflections on the day

• PMS makes me useless
• Damn you, Bryn Hartman
• Even though the house was a mess when my husband arrived home, the 3 previous days of non-stop cleaning made it fairly easy to recover
• Chicken and Avocado Soup make look amazing on Pinterest, but the real-life result is disappointing

The Blood of Innocents, or Day Three

Three days down, an indeterminate number to go. But hey, let's focus on the three days I've already conquered.

I'm not even going to bother with the tally of daily fail, because today was so rough it's easier to just go all-out confessional style.

Forgive me, Blogger, for I have sinned...
This morning, I did not throw back the covers. I emphatically did not freshen up. I lay on the couch with a headache, dozing and hoping the world would end.

I did not shower. I did not put on makeup. I did not do my chores in order, although most of them did get done.

I did not change into something more festive. I did not put out a coffee tray. I did greet my husband by shaking his hand and saying "Hi, I'm Jodie".

When you come home from work tomorrow, I'm going to greet you with a lesbian I saved from suicide.

It is 8pm, and I have not washed the dinner dishes. I have not poured boiling water down the drains. I have not packed my husband's lunch, set the table for the morning, or enjoyed an evening of relaxation.
I firmly resolve with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to be a better housewife. Amen.

Daily chore
WEDNESDAY
This day would be a kind of errand day.  She would go do the grocery shopping, go to the post office or library.  Anywhere she needed to go that week.  After returning home and putting away the groceries she had the rest of the day to do the mending or any sewing.

Dear. LORD.

I figured today would be a good day to purchase some rubber gloves to avoid those unsightly dishpan hands I mentioned on Day One, and to purchase some vinegar so that I might one day clean properly again. I also had something to drop off with Sissy-in-Lawsy. This plan involved me taking three children - all under the age of five - on a 7.5km round trip. But who's counting? Amirite or amirite?

In case anyone is wondering, it was a stupid idea, and a stupid plan. I don't care how many calories I burned or how much sunlight and fresh air my children got. It was stupid and it sucked and expecting a four year old to walk 7.5kms is outright idiotic. Hopefully she'll sleep well tonight, at least.

Anyway, the whole excursion ended up taking four hours, so no sewing or mending was done today.

Some reflections on the day

• After watching baby Sam fall off a stepstool and drive his teeth through his lip, I wonder why all household management tips for 50s housewives include the preface "Assuming you can get through your day without any trips to the emergency room..."
• The kids are big fans of the Wiggle Wagon, and Sam has added "doggie" to his list of dog-themed words. It joins "dog", "gooddog", "sit", and "dogdog".
• When planning a meal, always select something that can be safely ignored while you perform first aid.

Failure to Launch, or Day Two

After yesterday's successes, today was a pretty big letdown. Let's hit the ground running and criticize the hell out of me.

Daily chores
You remember the daily litany, right?

1. Throw back the covers. Nope. Didn't happen, at least not for a few hours. Remember yesterday's point regarding the sacred nature of sleeping babies?

2. Open up the blinds and windows. Oh, HELL NO. Today's high was 43C (109.4F, for those Americans in the audience) and I was not doing a single thing to make my house warmer.

7. Shower, do hair and make-up, get dressed. I did none of those things. It's impossible to shower with the children awake, and I felt that sweatpants and a tank top were about as dressed up as the weather warranted. I even skipped the mascara, because like hell I'm going to deal with it running all day.

12. Hang up any clothes that may be about or ensure dirty ones are in the hamper. I fully accept the shame that comes of realizing this is note-worthy, but our dirty clothes are finally in a hamper. Repeat. Dirty clothes are in the hamper.

24. Handle weekly chore for the day. So much fail. So very, very much.

29. Freshen up before the husband comes home. Consider changing into something more festive if the day dress is plain. I'm still wearing red, paint-splatted track pants, and a grey tank top that has somehow acquired a smear of peanut butter on the right bosom.

33. Clear table and wash dishes
34. Pour boiling water down the sink to ensure pipes are flushed
35. If necessary, pack the husband’s lunch for the next day. Set aside a lunch tray in the refrigerator for yourself if having leftovers
36. Set table for breakfast
37. Ensure breakfast foods are available and do any make-ahead preparations for it
38.Enjoy an evening of relaxation, or possibly just fall asleep dead on your feet. No one will notice.
It's almost 10pm and I still haven't done any of that. The baby will only stay asleep if he's on me tonight. At some point I'm going to have to either a) deal with the baby waking up and not getting back to sleep until God knows when or b) ask "the husband" to help out.

Daily chore
Today's little spot of hell torture and failure is:
TUESDAY
Deep clean the bedrooms and bathrooms.  Bed linens should be laundered twice a week and the floors in the bedrooms should be vacuumed on the same schedule, windows should be washed, bathroom floors scrubbed, and bathroom fixtures polished with metal polish, bath tubs and toilets were to be scrubbed and disinfected.  Garbage pails were also scrubbed and disinfected.

First of all, let me straight-up admit that it took me forever to actually get to the daily chore. It was almost 1pm before I made my way upstairs to tackle the cleaning. The heat today was a powerful demotivator, and I figure if you show me one woman in the 50s who didn't chill out a little when experiencing Arizonian weather, and I'll show you a giant liar. (I cannot stress enough that I live in Canada. CANADA. I should not have to even think about functioning in this sort of weather.)

When I finally did make it upstairs to do the deep cleaning, it didn't take long for disaster to strike. I had only been working on Ginny's bedroom for about 10 minutes (note: need to buy more Magic Erasers, because scrubbing ain't doing a damn thing for the crayon on the walls), and being reminded why I don't ever dust ceiling fans (hint: having a clump of dust land in my eye), I left things to go make nachos for the kids. And in that time, disaster struck.

When I came back upstairs to resume cleaning, I found that Ginny had emptied an entire bottle of baby oil into my wash bucket, helpfully getting a quantity of oil on her floors, too. Her hardwood floors. Baby oil. In the wash water. And the bucket.

I had to scour the bucket several times with soap and hot water to rinse out the majority of the oil, and then realized that I no longer had the ability to clean. I clean with vinegar and water for most things, and it just so happened that I had used the last of my vinegar. I usually buy the big 4L jugs of vinegar 4 at a time just so I never run out... except for today, of course.

Oh, and the baby oil was supposed to polish the fixtures in the bathroom, because I read online that it could. I'd report on its efficacy, but, well, you know. It's all gone.

Some reflections on the day

• You remember that episode of The Simpsons where Bart studied for a test, and he said that knowing the answers was like a whole new kind of cheating? Cleaning the house today was kind of like that.

"And when I went to desperately fake a clean house, the dirt was already gone! It was like a whole new kind of hiding the dirt!"

•  It's impossible to do anything quickly in this heat. You heard me. I said impossible.
• I have never, not once ever, used metal polish for anything other than jewellery. It looks like my Cal Ripken-like streak of metal non-polish-inage remains unbroken.
• I can tell Elise to pick up her floor, and she can be cleaning in her room for two solid hours, and it can still look as messy as it did before I sent her up there.

All in all, today was a bit of a bust on the housewifey front. Hopefully tomorrow will be a little more accomplished.

If You Cut Me, Do I Not Bleed? or Day One

Wow.

So that's a Monday, is it?

Excuse me while I die quietly in the corner.

Today was the start of the great Fifties in the Future project. Guess what, kittens? I'm <i>exhausted</i>. If I were German, I would say that I'm kaputt. But I'm not, so I'm just going to say that I have no concerns about my ability to sleep soundly tonight. Or for the rest of the year.

 Surely you all remember my brilliant list of eight million things to do every day - the potential Holy Grail of housekeeping schedules. And even if it isn't the Holy Grail, I'm pretty sure I heard someone banging a couple of coconuts together behind me as I went about the house. How did I stack up according to the list? Allow me to itemize:

3. Freshen up. Fallen at the third fence, eh what? Honestly, what constitutes "freshening up"? Today it meant slapping some night cream on my face, since that seemed sort of vaguely self-care-ish, and some mascara on my eyelashes, and putting a bow in my hair with my Nathan Cullen campaign scarf, which is being modeled below by some guy.

As you can see, it is EXACTLY the sort of scarf that makes an authentic 50s hair bow.

6. Complete a 10 minute exercise regime. I'm just going to say now that exercising is far easier to do when you're not nursing a baby. My dream of 10 minutes of gentle yoga very quickly became 10 minutes of half-assed calisthenics and barre exercises as the baby got his drink on.

7. Shower, do hair and make-up, get dressed. I skipped showering, as I had showered the night before. And the mascara I was wearing constituted almost all the makeup I own. So I scoured off the sweat with baby wipes and happily threw a clean dress on. Trust me, the clean dress was necessary. Somewhere between Make and serve breakfast and Clean up breakfast, the baby decided to try his hand at fecal finger painting. Awful pun not intended, but tragically hilarious.

11. Tidy the bedroom, including light dusting. and 12. Hang up any clothes that may be about or ensure dirty clothes are in the hamper. Despite our room desperately needing both of those things to happen, I skipped them. Baby was napping in the bed. Sleeping baby trumps all. ALL.

24. Handle the weekly chore for the day. You guys. YOU GUYS. Do you remember what Monday's chore is? Hint: It's deep-cleaning the kitchen, dining room and living room. More on that below.

28. Prepare a special dish for dinner. I'm just going to say that it would have gone more smoothly if my kids hadn't broken my bottle of foundation in the kitchen, and then brought it, drippingly, to me in the living room. All over my freshly-scrubbed floors. So I was a little late getting food for dinner on.

29. Freshen up before the husband returns home from work. Consider changing into something more festive if the day dress is plain. I brushed my hair. Does that count?

31. Greet husband "gayly". After swanning up to him, throwing my arms open and declaring "Welcome home, my conquering hero!", he has requested that I greet him Jody-from-early-seasons-of-Soap-gayly, not in the manner I did today. Presumably he wants me to attempt suicide when he returns home tomorrow, or knock up one of my friends.

38. Enjoy an evening of relaxation. I started the day's laundry at 10pm. I didn't have a chance before then. I choose to define "evening" in a fairly elastic manner.

Today's chore

MONDAY
Do a deep cleaning of the kitchen, living room, and dining room.  In the kitchen the appliances were thoroughly cleaned every week.  That's the stove, refrigerator, and any small appliances like the toaster.  Windows were washed in all the rooms and the floors were scrubbed spotless.  She would also do a thorough dusting in each room and replace any fresh flowers in the home.

 Wow. What a suckpile. Seriously. I hurt all over. And I cut my knee on some awful bit of misery when I was scrubbing the kitchen floor. So not only did I have to scrub up dirt, I had to clean up my own blood, too. Glamorous!

The living room was the last room I cleaned, and unfortunately for me, I couldn't come up with a meaningful definition of "deep cleaning" that didn't involve vacuuming the furniture. On the plus side, I let the kids do the vacuuming, on the vague principle that it would teach them good housekeeping skills - although it was really a cheap ploy to avoid doing it myself. I had reached the level of exhaustion where I would often swipe something on the wall listlessly with my rag, shrug, and declare that it was "good enough".

Some reflections on the day

• For the first time in my life, I am in danger of developing dishpan hands. I will need to invest in some rubber gloves, much as I loathe the feel of them.
• If you have someone who does your cleaning, you are not paying them enough. I don't care how much you're paying, there's no earthly way it's enough.
• If you clean houses for a living, you are not charging enough. Seriously. I might be the idiot who is doing this for free, but you couldn't pay me enough to scrub someone else's floors.
• I don't think I had ever cleaned the kitchen window. We moved here in October. Ew.
• The baby does not care for me doing all this cleaning, and not sitting around letting him use my breasts as chew toys.

So, onward and upward! Tomorrow is Day 2, and I hear the bathrooms calling my name.

I Like it Deep - My Cleaning, That Is

So, I've found this list of deep cleaning activities from The 50s Housewife Project, and it seems a good place to start.

MONDAY
Do a deep cleaning of the kitchen, living room, and dining room.  In the kitchen the appliances were thoroughly cleaned every week.  That's the stove, refrigerator, and any small appliances like the toaster.  Windows were washed in all the rooms and the floors were scrubbed spotless.  She would also do a thorough dusting in each room and replace any fresh flowers in the home

TUESDAY
Deep clean the bedrooms and bathrooms.  Bed linens should be laundered twice a week and the floors in the bedrooms should be vacuumed on the same schedule, windows should be washed, bathroom floors scrubbed, and bathroom fixtures polished with metal polish, bath tubs and toilets were to be scrubbed and disinfected.  Garbage pails were also scrubbed and disinfected.

WEDNESDAY
This day would be a kind of errand day.  She would go do the grocery shopping, go to the post office or library.  Anywhere she needed to go that week.  After returning home and putting away the groceries she had the rest of the day to do the mending or any sewing.

THURSDAY
Wash clothes.  Not everyone had an automatic washer so many 50's housewives still had to do this by hand.  It was an all day chore.

FRIDAY
The day after wash day was always dedicated to ironing.  She ironed everything, right down to underwear.  Table linens and sheets were also ironed.  This was another all day chore.

SATURDAY
Saturdays were for finishing up any loose ends from the week before and doing any preparations for your big Sunday dinner.

SUNDAY
Usually this was a day of rest.  The only tasks for the day would be a shorter version of the every day chore list and to prepare a lavish Sunday dinner.

Now, I can tell already that this isn't the exact format I'm going to stick to. We never iron, for starters, and I have no intention of starting now. We have a clothes steamer, and we use it only as it is genuinely needed. Mama ain't ironing at this time of her life. I'm sure I'll find a way to fill time on Fridays, though. Nature abhors a vacuum and all.

Let's 50s Up This Joint

Here is my daily cleaning schedule, cheerfully borrowed from Jen But Never Jenn. Who, I believe, adapted it from an old copy of Bride's Reference Book, although God knows I could be wrong.

1. Throw back the covers
2. Open up the blinds and windows
3. Freshen up.
4. Make and serve breakfast
5. Clean up breakfast
6. Complete a short exercise regime.
7. Shower, do hair and make-up, get dressed
8. Gather a basket for tidying. As the rooms of the home are tackled, pick up items that aren’t where they belong and place them in a basket. Redistribute them where they should be as you enter a new room
9. Straighten up the living and dining room, including picking up potential clutter, light dusting, fluffing / straightening pillows, and watering plants.
10. Make the beds
11. Tidy the bedroom, including light dusting
12. Hang up any clothes that may be about or ensure dirty ones are in the hamper
13. Do a light tidy of the bathroom including removing and replacing used towels, refilling toilet paper and soap (if needed) and cleaning the sink and basin area including soap dishes
14. Review the menu for the current day and the next and compare it to what’s currently available in the home. Make note of anything that needs to be prepared ahead of time or shopping that needs to get done
15. Begin long-advance preparations for dinner (such as making dessert)
16. Wipe down kitchen work surfaces and inside the fridge
17. Dispose of garbage
18. Rinse dish cloths and hang to dry
19. Sweep or mop the kitchen floor
20. Handle errands that might take you out of the home
21. If returning from the grocery store, wash vegetables, wrap them and put them away. Place rest of groceries or purchases in their proper place
22. Have a quick lunch
23. Start advance food conditioning like crisping vegetables or thawing frozen foods
24. Handle weekly chore for the day
25. Set the table for dinner
26. Arrange the living room for evening enjoyment, removing the childrens' debris
27. Do a quick sweep of the floors and ensure entrance ways are clear
28. Prepare a special dish for dinner
29. Freshen up before the husband returns from work. Consider changing into something more festive if the day dress is plain - Ain't never gonna happen. I already do enough laundry without costume changes for dinner
30. Ensure the coffee tray is prepared
31. Greet husband “gayly”
32. Serve dinner
33. Clear table and wash dishes
34. Pour boiling water down the sink to ensure pipes are flushed
35. If necessary, pack the husband’s lunch for the next day. Set aside a lunch tray in the refrigerator for yourself if having leftovers
36. Set table for breakfast
37. Ensure breakfast foods are available and do any make-ahead preparations for it
38. Enjoy an evening of relaxation, or possibly just fall asleep dead on your feet. No one will notice.

And So it Begins

I suck at introductions. I'm a mother of four, and a wife of one. I have a dog, two cats, and a bundle of slightly neurotic behaviours that I choose to call "personality." I loathe the Oxford comma, and I'm loathe to give it up.

I'm a perfectionist. My therapist tells me some of my goals are unrealistic. I say she's not setting her sights high enough.

One of the manifestations of my perfectionism is being obsessed with finding the perfect schedule. If I can just find the right schedule, all my problems will be solved. My house will be sparkling, my children will be well-behaved supergeniuses, my dog will stop shedding, my cats will clean their own litterbox, and my hair will be glossy and bouncy.

I've attempted many schedules over the years, and they've all failed. Some of them have failed because they've been frankly awful, but most of them have failed because the ruthless perfection seeker in me didn't see instant, flawless results, and abandoned them. Hey - nobody said I was perfect. I just have unrealistic expectations of myself and I'm relentlessly driven to achieve them.

So, a few things.

• Housewives in the 1950s used to burn a whole lot of calories doing housework - like, over 1000 calories a day. (Yeah, it's a Daily Mail link. I'll scrub the shame off in the shower later, I promise.) And I could <i>totally</i> stand to burn that many calories as I go about my business. God knows I don't have the time to go to the gym.
• I'm cheap. Hella cheap. (Do the kids still say "hella"? Did they ever?) But there's always room for improvement. Bring on the spirit of vintage thrift!
• I'm a project person. I love having a project to work on. But more specifically, I'm a compulsive project starter, and a terrible project follower-througher. I'm hoping that making a public spectacle of myself will engender better sticktoitiveness.
• I'm not going whole hog with this. There will be no vintage appliances, no wardrobe overhauls, and I'm pretty loathe to abandon Florence + the Machine in favour of Elvis Presley. I'm not going to eat an exclusively 50s diet - I am one of those insufferable people who can't eat regular food without getting sick, and it looks like my son might be following in my footsteps. This isn't Time Warp Wives, it's Fifties in the Future. Because 2012 is totally the future, even if I don't have a hover car. Yet.

I don't have a huge stack of research material, although I do have access to the library and I'm not afraid to use it. Primarily, though, I'll be gathering my inspirations from sources like Jen But Never Jenn , Things Your Grandmother Knew, The Apron Revolution, Tipnut, Diary of a Vintage Girl, Amy Alessio, and God knows whatever else strikes my fancy. I'm not breaking new ground here, and I'm not a faithful recreationist. I'm just trying to have some fun.

See you in the car,
-Milhouse