Recently, I’ve been pining over the 50’s.
That era seems so innocent and the pace of life slower and ever so desirable. Products made during that generation were quality and built to last. And the house wives…Wow! They literally turned housekeeping into an art form. Their dedication to quality took the occupation of home maker to a whole different level. One that I’d like to rise to. (Oh, how I wish to be as awesome as they were. I really do.)
Now before I go on I better state that if there are any turbo feminists out there reading this: calm down—I vote, have several degrees, run marathons, and am very liberated. However, I have chosen to stay home, raise a family, and run a household. And, yes, I do enjoy it. Very much.
So back to the 50’s…skirts, aprons, and pearls. Christmas cards, tinsel, wooden toy airplanes. Starched shirts, homemade family meals served on checkered table cloths, evenings spent on the front porch. Frugality, patience, craftsmanship….I want all it all…and I believe I can have it. It is my quest. (I’m not kidding.)
I’ve set some goals and started making changes. I’m not sure if our crafting blog is the place for this post but it’s going here none the less. I’ll post more about this soon but for now I have one last thing. An explanation for the presence of Lucy.
My visions of the idealistic 50’s lifestyle have images of TV show house wives thrown into the mix…people like…June Cleaver, Samantha Stevens, Father Know’s Best’s wife (whatever her name was), Carol Brady, Claire Huxtable, etc. and while they all were great TV mom’s (and not all from the 50’s) I have to admit that my style, if ever achieved, will most likely resemble Lucy’s.
No matter the drastic measures I take for serenity, wackiness happens. (What wackiness? If you know me you don’t need to ask. If you don’t know me then here’s a short list of very recent events that all started as something unrelated and completely normal: I became trapped in a port-a-potty without pants, a homeless man climbed into my mini-van carrying a tent and wanted to hang out, and my oven caught on fire during an evening with guests over. There’s more, but that’s fodder for my other blog…) Suffice it to say that most of my best laid plans turn into awkward situations and comedy ensues. Hence, my desire to get in touch with my inner Lucy. She may have been wacky but she was also a wicked awesome homemaker—who else can pull off vacuuming in heels?
So, the quest has begun. Will I ever get in touch with my inner Lucy? Will I become the home maker I want to be? Can I pull off that string of pearls?
Only time will tell.
—z
