Lemonade.

Bummer.

She did GREAT!

Nope, no stage fright here.

Hey, Dad. Some of this stuff is older than YOU!

I've always loved that show, but was never under the illusion that we'd discover a secret room that used to be an illegal speakeasy for state senators in our 1913 Craftsman. Still, while Slave Hubby and house guest D began the demolition of an attic wall today, I was thrilled at what they found: A 1944 Oregonian, a 1919 Portland Tribune, and several old containers, including an old whiskey bottle with top. By far, my favorite is a 1918 Astoria Catholic Monthly, in which there is an article calling people late to mass "degenerates." I will retype the article and post it here when time permits, because it is simply too fabulous. Boy, the punishments for stuff I take for granted were harsh back at the turn of the last century!!!

Anyhow, we have also discovered who built our house, that the bare land cost $10, and that they lived here from 1913 until the widow passed in 1976. Their descendants own a local hardware store, so I am going to stop by there at some point and ask if they have some pictures of the house back in the day.

Ultimately, everything related to the house's history is going to live in a glass-front cabinet, and will ultimately stay with the house. So look for those three ancient coffee cans to become part of our decor soon. (If you double click on the photo above, you can see the items in greater detail.)

A request for my mother.

I'm in the kitchen today, making lunch, looking for a place to wipe my damp hands and it hits me: Why on earth did women stop wearing aprons?

When I was growing up, all the ladies in my life had aprons--and several of them. They had numerous everyday ones in various faded flower prints, and a couple really fancy ones with starched ruffles and wide ribbons in back, for holidays. They had Christmas aprons with poinsettias and easter aprons with spring tulips.

But somewhere in the late 70s to early 80s, it was the stiff-smiled image of the woman of the 50s, doing her housework gleefully in her crinolines, high heels--and the ever-present apron--that became the enemy of all liberation promoted. It was during this time, women stopped using aprons (except my Granny, who used them until she no longer cooked for herself).

Now, today, my hands air-drying because I've once again mislaid the hand towel, it occurred to me that the feminist movement brought many great things to my generation, but tossing out the trusty, hardworking apron as if it could suddenly fashion itself into a noose to hang you with oppression, was just silly.

Of course, as a liberated woman, I also don't know how to sew (or do much of anything useful around the house except clean), but my mother, who actually had to take Home Ec and has used it ever since (unlike myself, who took algebra and never once used it again), will be getting a call. My mom, of the Last Oppressed Generation who can still make all her own window coverings and will beat anyone's pie crust (even that woman on TV who cooks but is having an affair with a married man), she'll be able to make an apron from memory with fat wide ribbons in the back.

But I think I'll ask for a new twist: I'd like mine done up in fabric with pirate skulls and crossbones on it.

Important Date!

Remember, it's Tom's birthday today! Hop over to his blog (link at left) and show him some major love people!!!