And Now I Breathe

And I exhale.

Three months of 14 credits worth of grad classes, weekly 500 mile commutes, and extensive travelling by McNASA have come to a close. I finally feel as though I can breathe. Nothing hanging over my head, no legal-pad sized to-do lists, no more dinner from a can!

So what now? So much was left undone while we were gallivanting across the Eastern Seaboard. Laundry has piled up, dust has built colonies under the radiators, and I don't remember the las time I cleaned the bathroom. Thanks be that Christmas is not at our house this year!

I have tried the FlyLady program, but I am afraid that I couldn't stomach the tchotcky aspect of it all. Cutesy names for dusting and videos of shined sinks set to music do not inspire me to tidy my "Hot Zones". What follows is a list of steps from my pick for bastion of homemaking, Anna at Pleasant View Schoolhouse:


Simple Guidelines for Deep Cleaning One Room at a Time:

•Deep breath.
•Put away everything that's out of place, throw away trash.
•Do anything that's going to make a mess, like trimming plants.
•Collect loose items and set them outside the door so they're not in the way.
•Can anything go in the laundry (curtains, rugs), or dishwasher? Do it.
•Dust walls and ceiling with a long duster. Dust everything else within reach with a microfiber cloth. Wipe baseboards and quarter-rounds.
•Vacuum, vacuum, vacuum.
•Vacuum upholstered furniture.
•Get a bucket of hot, soapy, fragrant water. Wipe everything that needs it--edges of floors where the mop doesn't get, light switches, any painted walls with fingerprints or smears. Then use bucket to:
•Mop the floor.
•Polish furniture with lemon oil.
•Clean mirrors and glass.
•Put everything back.

Number one room for me? The living room, where McNASA and I camp out whenever we're here together. Then the bathroom, then the kitchen.

After a quick lunch of clementines with walnuts, stilton cheese, and balsamic vinegar (seriously, trust me it's great), I am going to try and put this place back together.

Oy.

Homesickness

Things that I Miss About Baltimore

1. The Red Canoe
2. Zeke's Coffee
3. Belvedere Market
4. The Farmer's Market
5. Golden West's breakfast creation the Bismark (essentially fried dough folded over and filled with blueberries. Oh. Man.)
6. The beautiful houses in Roland Park
7. The Charles Theatre
8. The Urbanite

Right now, I miss the Urbanite the most. If I had any technical saavy, or friends with technical skills, I would start my own similar magazine about Pittsburgh. Because Pittsburgh seems like it might be a cool little city. NOT as cool as Baltimore, mind you, because nothing could be, but nice in its own right.

Oh, imaginary readers...do YOU know how to start a magazine?

Is there such a thing as a rubber glove fairy?

This morning I went outside to smoke my cigarette and there, behind the "butt bucket", were two sets of rubber gloves and a Ziploc baggie of...um...frankly, I have no idea what it was. Cuttle? Dog treats? Small bricks of hash? Does hash even exist any more?

I sent McNASA a photo of it, asking if he'd stashed something quickly. The answer is no. So now I am left to wonder what in the hell is being hidden on my side porch. And to wonder who thought it was smart to hide something next to an ashtray.

NPR rules, even with lower standards

Heard during an NPR story about flu vaccines: "perhaps there are just more really old people". This makes me laugh. "Really old people" seems so out of place on Morning Edition. Bob Edwards would have NEVER let that happen.

Truly Awesome

While making my weekly pilgrimage from Southwesternburgh to Baltimore, I passed the greatest thing ever: a nun driving an RV. It looked like a mobile STD testing station (and, since it appeared to be on its way to Baltimore, that makes sense). I texted McNASA and he suggested that it was a mobile convent-- "Get thee to a nunnery...in comfort and style!"

Awesome.

In Which the Dust has Settled and Now Must be Swept Up...

We've moved! McNASA and I are more or less established in a beautiful three bedroom Dutch Colonial on a charming street in Southwesternburgh. It was a flip house that we are currently renting (although I think we should plan on buying it...we'll see); there are dozens of windows (our old apartment had two), a fireplace, and little charming touches that make me giddy when I think about them.

Seriously. I was standing in our kitchen last week and the windows were all open and the coffee was brewing and the breeze came through and I squealed like an eight year-old with a new doll house. I love having a home. I love lighting candles and plumping pillows and standing in the foyer, admiring the plenty.

What I don't love is the cleaning. After living in an overcrowded three room apartment where cleaning just felt like a watse of time, I have all of this space. So much space.

And space, that bastard, has a penchant for dust.

So I've taken three weeks to hope that housekeeping magically happens in the night (aka, I can wear down McNASA and he'll do it), but it's looking dubious. So I have armed myself: Organic Housekeeping. The Art and Science of Keeping House. Mrs. Meyers. And a heck of a lot of cheap and pretty washcloths. I've joined FlyLady with a Buddy (the renown Homemaker/career gal/Super Wife, Jude), and promised McNASA.

So, here it goes. Please keep the good thought.

Housing Woes

The Farmette was a dump.

Rotten. Decaying. Crumbling around us.

I was so horribly disappointed.

Now we will be renters. Again. At least this time we'll have a house.




I must send my thanks to McNASA for a truly amazing birthday week.

The Great Home Search

Apparently we need a place to live.

I recognize that this should not come as a shock to me; we're moving to a new state, for Pete's sake...obviously we need a new home. I understood this to a point, but I am now faced with actually finding one.

McNASA and I have generated a list of look-for's (my push. I am a great believer in lists. McNASA, on the other hand, prefers to keep mental notes that are secret to all but him). Older house, lots of light, a fair amount of land, garage, out building(s), and at least three bedrooms. That pretty much covers it.

While scouring the internet, I came across a lovely, ramshackle home that has undergone some major renovations. It sits on 2/3 of a acre, which is like a kingdom to the suburban McNASA and me. It needs some cosmetic work, and some larger things, like floors and walls. However, it's lovely, it's removed from suburbia, and it has a phenomenal price tag. I thought we were set. I was pestering McNASA about the types of floors we'd put it, I pictured myself baking bread in the kitchen and reading in the Great Room.

And then I saw the farmette.

A "farmette" is apparently a small, mostly residential parcel of land that can grow food and house animals. This farmette has 16 acres, a barn, a chicken coop, and fruit trees. It also has a 100-something year old "block house". The house is filled with paneling, baskets, and shag carpeting. I haven't even seen it yet and I am in love. I fell asleep last night imagining what it would be like to wake up and feed the chickens and check on the goats (I want goats. I have since my family "baby sat" a farmette when I was nine years old), then wander through my farmhouse while frying bacon.

We are scheduled to see both houses tomorrow. If it's not too tacky (or illegal) to do this, I will post pictures of my findings.

Wish us luck. I want to buy the farm(ette).

Welcome!

I had originally started a blog to chronicle my experiences working as an inner-city high school teacher. That plan, however, was disrupted when my boyfriend and I decided to move to Southwestern Pennsylvania so that he could take a fabulous job. Now, instead of being a full-time urban teacher, we are moving to the middle of nowhere where I will be a full-time student and homemaker.

This is wonderful. This is fantastic. This gives me a chance to realize my Helen Nearing, Janet Lurhs, Jan Karon sensibilities! I will have time to bake bread, roast a perfect chicken, make an apple pie, and master the art of beef stew. Except...and here's the rub...I have no idea how to go about this. I don't know how to use bleach in a washing machine, or how to mop a floor, or how to make pancakes.

In short, I am cripplingly, shamefully domestically-challenged. So with the help of Mrs. Dunwoody's Excellent Instructions for Homekeeping: Timeless Wisdom and Practical Advice and Home Comforts : The Art and Science of Keeping House, I am going to embark on a journey of discovery: self-discovery, and re-discovery as I attempt to become what so many women have fought against. I hope you will join me as the single city girl attempts to become the Country "Wife".