I'm beginning to be frightened - I kid you not - by the amount of time I spend maintaining stuff in my life.
It could be that my standards have improved over the years. I can recall times when I threw things away because they needed a nail or a screw and I couldn't be bothered or didn't know how to fix them. Or there was a brief phase when I succumbed to the "I am too spiritual and intellectual to bother myself with material things". These days I think it's a bit immoral to own something and not take care of it. If you despise it or don't need it, get rid of it rather than neglect it.
So I clean stuff, repair stuff, and of course - my all time favourite - move stuff around while trying to work out where to will live on a more permanent basis.
The positive effect of this is that I'm reluctant to acquire new stuff unless its a consumeable or I'm convinced it's going to be more than a short fling. I'm also motivated to get rid of stuff that no longer has a purpose in my life.
I once visited friends in the UK who were there for six months only. They had a flat which contained a bed, a portable wardrobe, a couch and 2 arm chairs, a table with folding chairs around it, and one bookshelf. When we visited they had to buy extra plates, cups and cutlery for us. When dinner was over we had to the do the dishes or we wouldn't have clean plates for breakfast. Cleaning the house took about 40 minutes once per week, if you moved at a gentle amble. While staying there I had so much time…
I get the same feeling when I'm travelling, only there I'm not even cooking my own meals. Sure, I don't have as much control over my environment or what I'm eating, and I can't do crafts, but it's simple and there's plenty of time.
It makes me realise what a high maintenance life I lead.
Showing posts with label domestic goddess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label domestic goddess. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Make and mend
Today I repaired two fitted sheets. The elastic had lost it's spring. I bought some new elastic, and sat down for aBout an hour at the machine. Hey presto, two sheets as good as new.
As we like 100% cotton, with a high thread count, this is a considerable saving.
Before you gain a false impression of my domestic economy, I also have a couple of items at the Magic Tailor for repair. One is a jacket of Mr OS that needs relining. Although I am technically capable of doing relining myself, I didn't choose to do so.
I'd rather make a jacket from scratch than reline one. Yet I don't think I'd make a sheet from scratch.
It comes down to a time/benefit ratio. The sheet repair was was simple, and quick and I was confident I'd do a good job. The jacket repair was slow and complex and I wasn't sure I'd get a professional quality finish.
I like the idea of make and mend, just as long as I don't have to do it all 'in house'. There is a place for outsourcing.
As we like 100% cotton, with a high thread count, this is a considerable saving.
Before you gain a false impression of my domestic economy, I also have a couple of items at the Magic Tailor for repair. One is a jacket of Mr OS that needs relining. Although I am technically capable of doing relining myself, I didn't choose to do so.
I'd rather make a jacket from scratch than reline one. Yet I don't think I'd make a sheet from scratch.
It comes down to a time/benefit ratio. The sheet repair was was simple, and quick and I was confident I'd do a good job. The jacket repair was slow and complex and I wasn't sure I'd get a professional quality finish.
I like the idea of make and mend, just as long as I don't have to do it all 'in house'. There is a place for outsourcing.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
When we don't finish what we start
Have you ever noticed how many times you don't finish a task you start?
Sometimes it's the nature of the task, but more often we get distracted or think we are better at 'multi-tasking' than we really are. This post was prompted when I emptied the kitchen bin earlier today, and an hour later I realised I hadn't replaced the bin liner. In itself, it's a minor sin of omission, but it started me thinking.
Many - most? - of us go through life metaphorically leaving lights on, doors open, lids off, belongings strewn about the place, etc. I suggest that all but the most efficient and tidy amongst us do this at least some of the time. For example, does it count as finished when you 'file' those files in the 'to be filed' basket? I don't think so. It's really finished when you file those files in the correct file in your filing system.
Much of the minutiae that clogs our lives falls into this category. Also most of the annoyances of on our annoyance lists. Take this completely fictional example:
We take the dirty dishes through to the kitchen, then dump them on the benchtop rather than stacking them neatly let alone rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher. (Chances are we don't do this because the dishwasher is still full of the last load of clean dishes.) Incomplete tasks snowball. We don't have time to empty the dishwasher just now, so we dump our new load of dirty cups. Later, we don't have time to empty the dishwasher and reload it, so we certainly don't have time to do all that and cook, so we go out to dinner….
When something has remained unfinished for long enough, it becomes first an annoyance and then a 'guilt god' (thanks to the late Douglas Adams for this useful concept). Eventually we have a large domestic crisis looming when we either the funky smell, guilt, or impending visitors drive us to deal with the kitchen situation. That's right, it's now officially 'the kitchen situation'. At which point we're mentally swearing and feeling sorry for ourself for having to do all this horrible, unnecessary, boring, unpleasant, menial housework on our precious day off. It takes a long time, and we're exhausted mentally and physically by the end of it. So we have a cup of tea. Then we decide to do something more interesting as a reward. We probably leave the dirty cup on the coffee table when we do so.
So the next time you find yourself 'just' doing something else instead of finishing a task you'd already start, stop and ask yourself where it might all lead, and what your daily life would be like if you finished minor or menial tasks whenever you started them.
Sometimes it's the nature of the task, but more often we get distracted or think we are better at 'multi-tasking' than we really are. This post was prompted when I emptied the kitchen bin earlier today, and an hour later I realised I hadn't replaced the bin liner. In itself, it's a minor sin of omission, but it started me thinking.
Many - most? - of us go through life metaphorically leaving lights on, doors open, lids off, belongings strewn about the place, etc. I suggest that all but the most efficient and tidy amongst us do this at least some of the time. For example, does it count as finished when you 'file' those files in the 'to be filed' basket? I don't think so. It's really finished when you file those files in the correct file in your filing system.
Much of the minutiae that clogs our lives falls into this category. Also most of the annoyances of on our annoyance lists. Take this completely fictional example:
We take the dirty dishes through to the kitchen, then dump them on the benchtop rather than stacking them neatly let alone rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher. (Chances are we don't do this because the dishwasher is still full of the last load of clean dishes.) Incomplete tasks snowball. We don't have time to empty the dishwasher just now, so we dump our new load of dirty cups. Later, we don't have time to empty the dishwasher and reload it, so we certainly don't have time to do all that and cook, so we go out to dinner….
When something has remained unfinished for long enough, it becomes first an annoyance and then a 'guilt god' (thanks to the late Douglas Adams for this useful concept). Eventually we have a large domestic crisis looming when we either the funky smell, guilt, or impending visitors drive us to deal with the kitchen situation. That's right, it's now officially 'the kitchen situation'. At which point we're mentally swearing and feeling sorry for ourself for having to do all this horrible, unnecessary, boring, unpleasant, menial housework on our precious day off. It takes a long time, and we're exhausted mentally and physically by the end of it. So we have a cup of tea. Then we decide to do something more interesting as a reward. We probably leave the dirty cup on the coffee table when we do so.
So the next time you find yourself 'just' doing something else instead of finishing a task you'd already start, stop and ask yourself where it might all lead, and what your daily life would be like if you finished minor or menial tasks whenever you started them.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Knowledge is power
Here's a great trick for getting baked on gunk off a stainless steel roasting tray. I scrub and scrub, but the burnt oil always collects on the edges of the pan, and creeps toward the centre with regular monotony.
Pop the tray in a plastic basin filled with hot water and a dishwasher tablet. (Use rubber gloves and don't splash the water on your clothes or in your eyes. Let it soak. I became distracted and left the pan in for two days. The chemicals don't seem to have harmed the steel.
Rinse and allow to air dry, the baked on oil will peel off - literally, spookily even.
In domestic management, as in so many areas of life, it turns out that application, diligence and good intent are not enough to ensure a successful outcome. They need to be allied to knowledge. Knowledge is power.
Pop the tray in a plastic basin filled with hot water and a dishwasher tablet. (Use rubber gloves and don't splash the water on your clothes or in your eyes. Let it soak. I became distracted and left the pan in for two days. The chemicals don't seem to have harmed the steel.
Rinse and allow to air dry, the baked on oil will peel off - literally, spookily even.
In domestic management, as in so many areas of life, it turns out that application, diligence and good intent are not enough to ensure a successful outcome. They need to be allied to knowledge. Knowledge is power.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Irritation, learned helplessness and '3 shoulds'
A few years ago I read about keeping an Irritations List as a productivity tool. (I think it was Michael Gerber's E-Myth, but it might also have been Stephen Covey's 7 Habits... both are good sources of ideas.)
An irritation is something less than an actual problem... it's not that big a deal... like using the stub of a broken pencil to take phone messages, or having to hold your front door key a certain way to open the lock. Irritations can also be procedural: any step which makes you wonder why do I have to go through this step or this hassle? qualifies.
The two hallmarks of irritations are
1) it almost feels petty to be irritated by it, so it tends to fall out of your head when it isn't actually in progress
2) when it is solved - sometimes by accident - we think, "wow, what a huge relief, I wish I'd done that earlier."
We spend a lot of time accentuating the positive, but we often have a 'learned helplessness' attitude when it comes to eliminate the negative. We put up with stuff because that's just the way it is, or we are annoyed but not enough to be motivated to do something about it. Yet irritations, especially when they gang up on us, can bring down our productivity and our mood, making even simple things feel hard.
The '3 shoulds' are a useful way to bring your attention to irritations. The third time you think, "there should be a better way to..." or "I really should fix this..." or "I should get a new..." that's when you act. Even if you don't wholly resolve the irritation, a bit of research will increase your understanding and your sense of agency.
What prompted this post was a faint, intermittent funky smell which has been maddeningly elusive for the past few days. I feared we might have a leak after the recent torrential rain, but it was just my front-loading washing machine needing a bit of extra TLC. Possibly I have been closing the door too frequently, so I don't bark my shins as I go past it...which could be another irritation, now I come to think of it.
It was surprisingly easy to solve once I worked out the smell was emanating from my washing machine: empty the filter unit, wipe around the seals and the drum of the washing machine with a rag moistened with tea tree oil (to kill any mold and remove soap scum) and then run the machine on a short hot cycle after putting bleach into the drum. Hey presto: clean and sweet smelling. Not only have I vanquished this particular irritation, but I have an increased 'sense of agency' about dealing with any others that crop up.
An irritation is something less than an actual problem... it's not that big a deal... like using the stub of a broken pencil to take phone messages, or having to hold your front door key a certain way to open the lock. Irritations can also be procedural: any step which makes you wonder why do I have to go through this step or this hassle? qualifies.
The two hallmarks of irritations are
1) it almost feels petty to be irritated by it, so it tends to fall out of your head when it isn't actually in progress
2) when it is solved - sometimes by accident - we think, "wow, what a huge relief, I wish I'd done that earlier."
We spend a lot of time accentuating the positive, but we often have a 'learned helplessness' attitude when it comes to eliminate the negative. We put up with stuff because that's just the way it is, or we are annoyed but not enough to be motivated to do something about it. Yet irritations, especially when they gang up on us, can bring down our productivity and our mood, making even simple things feel hard.
The '3 shoulds' are a useful way to bring your attention to irritations. The third time you think, "there should be a better way to..." or "I really should fix this..." or "I should get a new..." that's when you act. Even if you don't wholly resolve the irritation, a bit of research will increase your understanding and your sense of agency.
What prompted this post was a faint, intermittent funky smell which has been maddeningly elusive for the past few days. I feared we might have a leak after the recent torrential rain, but it was just my front-loading washing machine needing a bit of extra TLC. Possibly I have been closing the door too frequently, so I don't bark my shins as I go past it...which could be another irritation, now I come to think of it.
It was surprisingly easy to solve once I worked out the smell was emanating from my washing machine: empty the filter unit, wipe around the seals and the drum of the washing machine with a rag moistened with tea tree oil (to kill any mold and remove soap scum) and then run the machine on a short hot cycle after putting bleach into the drum. Hey presto: clean and sweet smelling. Not only have I vanquished this particular irritation, but I have an increased 'sense of agency' about dealing with any others that crop up.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
In praise of scones
Ah yes, another food-related post. Note to self: stop writing these when you're hungry!
Yesterday I made some scones. [Somewhere between biscuits and individual shortcakes for my North American readers.] The scone is one of those humble foodstuffs that can be underrated. The availability of mass-produced, over-sweet, inferior scones is threatening the Real Thing, which is now an endangered species. Which is a pity.
Scones are the perfect life-support system for good jam and cream. Or good cheese (especially if you're short of good bread). I like mine with 'just butter' too. Cheese and herb scones are good for those who don't have a sweet tooth, or for dunking in soups and stews. I have a soft spot for scones with dried fruit as my Aunties made them when I was a child, I just never seem to make them for myself. Probably because I can't do it as well.
A guest always feels welcomed - even fussed over - if you make scones, yet with the foolproof technique it takes less than 10 minutes to make up a batch (this includes finding the kitchen notebook which lists the quantities you can never remember, and changing your mind about which size oven tray to use), and 10-15 minutes to cook, even in my unreliable oven. That's just time to dig out your favourite jams, and put the kettle on. Its quicker than going to the shops for a pack of biscuits, cheaper and nicer too.
2 cups of self-raising flour
50 gms butter
150 mls milk
extra milk to glaze [Some people prefer egg or egg and milk. It takes all sorts, I suppose.]
To serve: good jam, cream (runny or whipped as you prefer, clotted if you're feeling indulgent), also great with lemon curd, another old fashioned delicacy.
Foolproof scone technique:
Preheat your oven to 200'C. Yes, you really have to for scones.
Scone dough wants as little handling as possible. I used to cut the butter in using a food-processor, then add the milk and quickly combine with my (scrupulously clean) hands. That works fairly well but you have to clean the food-processor afterward, which is a bore and a deterrent.
A friend, who makes great scones, uses melted butter, because that's-the-way-Mum-always-did-it. So throw the melted butter in, mix it into the flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs (or you can't be bothered messing anymore) and then add the milk.
The dough should be, if anything, damp rather than dry. Throw it onto a floured surface and pat it into a squarish round about 1.5cms thick. Or 2cms if you prefer really high scones.
Cut the scones clean through without dragging the knife back-and-forth. If you use a glass or a cookie cutter, press down and pull straight up, never twist as the dough will be caught and your scones won't rise. Glaze the top with a bit of milk.
Stick them on a baking tray. I use either a baking sheet or baking parchment so I don't have to grease. Spread them a little apart or they'll join up in the cooking.
Bake at 200'C for 12-15 minutes. In a good fan-forced oven, I'd check after 10 minutes. It can take as long as 20 minutes if your oven is very geriatric.
What NOT to do with a scone:
This is post 18 of 43 posts.
Yesterday I made some scones. [Somewhere between biscuits and individual shortcakes for my North American readers.] The scone is one of those humble foodstuffs that can be underrated. The availability of mass-produced, over-sweet, inferior scones is threatening the Real Thing, which is now an endangered species. Which is a pity.
Scones are the perfect life-support system for good jam and cream. Or good cheese (especially if you're short of good bread). I like mine with 'just butter' too. Cheese and herb scones are good for those who don't have a sweet tooth, or for dunking in soups and stews. I have a soft spot for scones with dried fruit as my Aunties made them when I was a child, I just never seem to make them for myself. Probably because I can't do it as well.
A guest always feels welcomed - even fussed over - if you make scones, yet with the foolproof technique it takes less than 10 minutes to make up a batch (this includes finding the kitchen notebook which lists the quantities you can never remember, and changing your mind about which size oven tray to use), and 10-15 minutes to cook, even in my unreliable oven. That's just time to dig out your favourite jams, and put the kettle on. Its quicker than going to the shops for a pack of biscuits, cheaper and nicer too.
2 cups of self-raising flour
50 gms butter
150 mls milk
extra milk to glaze [Some people prefer egg or egg and milk. It takes all sorts, I suppose.]
To serve: good jam, cream (runny or whipped as you prefer, clotted if you're feeling indulgent), also great with lemon curd, another old fashioned delicacy.
Foolproof scone technique:
Preheat your oven to 200'C. Yes, you really have to for scones.
Scone dough wants as little handling as possible. I used to cut the butter in using a food-processor, then add the milk and quickly combine with my (scrupulously clean) hands. That works fairly well but you have to clean the food-processor afterward, which is a bore and a deterrent.
A friend, who makes great scones, uses melted butter, because that's-the-way-Mum-always-did-it. So throw the melted butter in, mix it into the flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs (or you can't be bothered messing anymore) and then add the milk.
The dough should be, if anything, damp rather than dry. Throw it onto a floured surface and pat it into a squarish round about 1.5cms thick. Or 2cms if you prefer really high scones.
Cut the scones clean through without dragging the knife back-and-forth. If you use a glass or a cookie cutter, press down and pull straight up, never twist as the dough will be caught and your scones won't rise. Glaze the top with a bit of milk.
Stick them on a baking tray. I use either a baking sheet or baking parchment so I don't have to grease. Spread them a little apart or they'll join up in the cooking.
Bake at 200'C for 12-15 minutes. In a good fan-forced oven, I'd check after 10 minutes. It can take as long as 20 minutes if your oven is very geriatric.
What NOT to do with a scone:
- Microwave it. Just. Don't. It will be soggy and rubbery with an ice cold bit in the middle and the edges so hot your whipped cream melts and goes oily.
- Refrigerate it. Scones are quick breads, so you eat the them same day and that's all there is to it. In my house there are seldom any leftovers, and so no moral dilemma of 'to fridge or not to fridge'. But if there were, I wouldn't. In desperate cases I have found a couple of rock-hard, day-old scones are excellent for sopping up casserole or stew gravy.
This is post 18 of 43 posts.
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