3-2-1961
"They're dreamers," I shrieked. "Don't they know that I don't bake angel food cakes anymore? I even buy cakes for birthdays at our house."
And they might just as well have asked me for cherry pie which they did last year, and you may remember what a fiasco that was. Mabel got sick and couldn't make them and I had to bake them myself with resulting tears and tragedy.
I went back to the living room and very shortly I thought something smelled very warm and then very brown.
But I didn't actually connect it with the cake until I began to wonder if I hadn't heard the timer buzz, so I went to the kitchen.
I still had five minutes, but the cake had overflowed and was a crisp black.
"You're just not a very good cook," said my husband.
"Stupid cake," I said.
And I mixed up another one and put it in the oven carefully setting the timer for 15 minutes and reducing the oven temperature to under 350 degrees. Before the 15 minutes were up, that cake was a very dark brown on top.
How long does it take to bake an angel food cake, anyway?
"Stupid cake," I said.
And I took it to the band mothers.
Next time, dear ladies, will you just ask me to come and wash dishes?
Judging debates is usually a lonely job going from room to room, a single judge in company with a timer and the debaters.
But at Spirit Lake, a room was set aside for judges and coaches to drink coffee and relax and talk to each other. This has been my first opportunity to talk to other judges who are usually the coaches as well.
Do you realize how well our Manson debaters are regarded? One coach, introduced to Mr. Welch and myself, looked at us with disfavor.
"Well, there it goes," he said in despair. "You got here, so there goes the debate."
And the other coaches and judges also gazed at us with respect. We basked in reflected glory as they praised the Manson debaters and their coach, Mrs. Vetter, who was not there that day. And I realized more than ever, how proud we should be of our high school students and their instructors.
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3-9-1961
I will employ a broom, a dust mop, a dust cloth, my hands, and knees and a chair to stretch up to corners before I will be driven to the pantry for the vacuum. And for all the tubes and brushed and swivels and cords and hose that come with it.
What the blinds really needed and still do was a real old fashioned sudsing, but I simply didn't have time for that. I didn't have time to do a good job of dusting them either, but there comes a time when it is necessary to at least make a gesture toward something extra in the way of cleaning. And last weekend was the time for it with two meetings scheduled at our house for this week.
My arms were aching and I was halfway down the window and gloomily counting the number of blinds and windows ahead of me, when it occurred to me that the vacuum cleaner did not seem to be putting out much effort.
It was roaring as usual, but there was an empty howl to it. Suspiciously, I put my hand over the brush and could feel no suction. I removed the brush and put my hand over the nozzle. No suction.
Then I remembered something else. There was supposed to be a place on most cleaners to blow air out instead of sucking it in, and there was a hole at the side of this cleaner that air came out of.
Now I really felt like a mechanic. The nozzle of the hose fit in the hole and I was pretty excited until I began to worry about what might blow out of the hose besides the pencil if it did.
And whoosh!
A great big wad of dust and lint and dirt blew clear across the porch to the top of the steps, and the pencil clattered noisily after it.
Hastily, I reeled the hose back inside and reassembled the vacuum cleaner, turned it on and the suction was terrific. I was so proud that I was almost happy as I finished the hall blinds and went on to the living room.
"It would have been interesting," he said, almost wistfully, "If someone had been coming up the steps just as you turned the vacuum on. Surprise, huh?!!"
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3-16-1961
So we did not postpone the circle meeting at my house last Thursday afternoon and we were proud of the eight women who braved the snowdrifts to get there.
"Though we wouldn't have come," said Lorraine, "if we had known we would have to eat raw egg!"
As a matter of fact, the dessert was very good and no one would ever have known there was raw egg in it if they had just sat quietly and eaten it without getting curious.
It was Lorraine who had started it.
"This is good," she said, "But what are we eating?"
So one thing led to another and I got out the recipe and that's how they discovered there was raw egg in it.
And then, Mabel Thomas confessed that her daughter had insisted the mixture should be cooked when she caught her mother making a panful for the meeting. But Mabel was brave. She had made the recipe according to the instructions I had given her.
I had eaten it first at a club meeting several years ago and asked for the recipe from Marian Rankin and the next day a card came in the mail with the recipe written down, and I have used it fairly often to this very day still from that same card.
It would have been the recipe I would have entered in the Karnival contest had I been allowed to enter. (Yes, of course, I would have shared the $5 dollar prize with Mrs. Rankin.)
I had protested when the county president called from Lohrville, but I couldn't argue with drifting driveways and snow packed roads.
If there is a blizzard next Monday, I may start screaming and it may be hard to stop me.
But Dale was serene. He set off happily, figuring that surely they would be dismissed about noon.
Dale is never quite as thrilled with schools closing as the girls are. Martha and Becky spent most of last Wednesday morning cozily reading in bed, but Dale had to get out and shovel snow.
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3-23-1961
It was a pity that Mrs. Stewart wasn't there to hear the comments and compliments.
That tablecloth was a handmade gorgeous creation of nylon net and sequins and where it belonged was in a bank vault, not in my house.
But I have been guarding it well, hardly daring to breathe when I am in the same room with it even if it is wrapped in tissue paper, secure in a sturdy box. And I can assure Mrs. Stewart that in case of fire, I will grab it first!
But I hope she hurries home now.
When Mary Thomas came to the house for play practice several days ago, she brought her granddaughter with her.
I established little Linda on the lounge chair with books and colors and proceeded to tell my cast about my husband's part in his play that of the brother who thinks he is Teddy Roosevelt and bounds up and down stairs shouting, "Charge!"
"Charge!" she yelled in a fine battle cry. Mary was completely astonished.
"I didn't even think she was listening to us that afternoon!" she admitted.
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3-30-1961
It was almost worse than doing them myself by hand.
But I never expected that I would have to use them, or that it would be such a nerve-wracking experience when I did.
However, I got two loads of clothes washed and dried and for this I am grateful. So I still say a public laundry is a boon to womankind!
This is always another of the miracles of spring that the toddlers and pre-schoolers blossom in the yards along with the tulips and apple blossoms.
We've heard of branches bearing leaves and blossoms early when brought inside so now we're waiting to see if it's true. It will be just our luck if the tree outside flowers before the branch inside does.
However, Nancy set out the plants last fall that I have been cherishing all winter and her touch didn't make any difference.
The Joseph's coat has not grown one inch and the other plants all died. And the sweet potato plant! Well!
The last time Nancy was home, she eyed the weird looking growth and said flatly, "If your sweet potato plant could see my sweet potato plant at school, it would hang it's head in shame!"
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