Can anyone who has read Stephen King’s new book Lisey’s Story tell me if there is any reason to continue plowing through it if I have become bored and exasperated after 50 pages? My sister-in-law says she once heard someone say, “Stephen King wouldn’t be a bad writer if he had an editor,” and I think that is accurately reflecting my current feelings. He wrote in 50 pages what should have taken 5, and he is really overdoing his parenthetical italics again. But if you tell me it is worth it, or that it picks up soon, I will give it another shot.

Last night Paul got out a drill and finished the drawer-pull-replacement project. On one hand I am grateful to him for fixing a problem. On the other hand it is so typical of him to come along for the fun part at the end: he didn’t just drill bigger holes, he also installed the new pulls. Installing the new pulls is the best part.

Well. Moving on. Here is the bureau first with the old pulls (white, black-screwhead center), and then with the new (brushed antiqued coppery brown metal):

An unanticipated happy thing is that the new pulls coordinate almost exactly with the frame of a mirror we have above the bureau. But I am still not certain these are the Right Pulls. They seem small. I like them better than the old pulls, but maybe big loopy rings would be even better?

This morning I have been doing very boring tasks indeed. First, Elizabeth broke the household record for “how soon after getting dressed will Mommy have to change an item of clothing due to pee” by being soaked through when I picked her up out of her crib and cuddled her. So both crib sheets got changed, and both twins got baths. Then as I was dressing the babies, I noticed I was using the last diaper, so I refilled the bin. Then I thought I’d better make more diaper wipes, considering we’d been out of them since yesterday and I was starting to push my luck. YAWN. This motherhood gig: so rewarding, so fulfilling.

Those of you who would have need of a homemade diaper wipes recipe have probably already run into this one. Nevertheless, I will post it here. When I first encountered this recipe, it was presented not only as a way to save a few pennies, but as a way to custom-make your own wipes if your baby happened to be sensitive to commercial wipes, or if you wanted to better control the ingredients. I grew to prefer them, and so even though they’re a small hassle to make, they’re worth it to me. But I also keep the commercial kind on hand for times when I’ve run out of the homemade kind and don’t get around to making more right away, and also for in the diaper bag.

First you need the right container. I bought mine at Walmart. It’s a Rubbermaid Servin’ Saver, 3 quart. It’s a squarish cylinder shape. I have four of them, because it’s less trouble to make these wipes if you make a bunch at once.

Next you need the right paper towels. Apparently they have to be Bounty Big Roll. I tried a couple of other kinds (I was assuming that the recipe was put out by Bounty, and that the kind didn’t actually matter) and they turned into pulp. I get the regular sheet kind, but maybe select-a-size would be good, too, I don’t know. Depends on how customized you want your diaper wipe experience.

Use a big sharp knife and cut the roll of paper towels in half so you have two short rolls. Wiggle and twist the inner cardboard tube until it comes out (it usually brings part of a paper towel with it in a little tufty fountain; that’s fine). In the container, combine 1 tablespoon of baby oil, 2 tablespoons of baby shampoo, and 2 cups of water. I don’t think exact measurements are crucial. If I’m in a hurry, I just pour in a slog of baby oil and two slogs of baby shampoo, then put in two bathroom-sink cups of water. Swish it around with your hand to mix it, then put a half-roll of paper towels in. Put the lid on, wait about 15 seconds, turn the whole thing upside down, and let it sit for half an hour or so. Then turn it right side up and use wipes by pulling them out from the center.

Cost information: Around here, a 2-pack of Bounty Big Roll paper towels sells for about $3.30. Each roll makes two containers of wipes, so a 2-pack is enough for four containers at about 83 cents each. Each container is 90 wipes. Then you’d have to add a little for whatever the cost is of the oil and soap you use. I like to use store-brand baby oil, the kind with something nice like aloe, and Johnson’s Baby Shampoo or Baby Magic. Choosing those parts is the benefit of this recipe as far as I’m concerned: it’s nice to choose a scent I like (Johnson’s lavender baby shampoo is nice), and it’s nice to be able to add more oil in winter, or more/less water if the wipes seem too dry/wet.

Something that raises the cost in our household is that Paul can’t seem to wrap his mind around the “paper towels” concept, and instead thinks of the wipes as toilet paper. He pulls out a big long loop, maybe five or six wipes in a big handful, and uses that for a diaper change. If he needs a second wipe, he takes out another big handful. He claims this is because it’s “impossible” to rip off a single sheet, but I can personally testify that it is indeed possible, and that once you get the hang of it you can easily do it one-handed.

Today’s assignment, for those playing along at home, is to find a small home-improvement task that you’ve been putting off, and do it. I’m talking about something along the lines of what I chose, which is to finally replace the drawer pulls on the bureau. You could also spackle nail holes, or touch up a teeny paint job, or hang a picture, or pick stickers off the wall–something like that.

I bought the drawer pulls a year or two ago, but when I brought them home and tried to take the old drawer pulls off, I discovered that each one had a nut on the back of what I’d thought was a screw, and that when I tried to unscrew the screw-that-must-in-fact-be-a-bolt, the nut was tightening. Instant despair. Instant giving up. I explained the problem to my dad, who, after a pause in which he was probably wondering where he’d gone wrong with my upbringing, explained that all I had to do was grip the nut with pliers while unscrewing the bolt. Here’s how I heard it, though: “All you have to do is…[static]…[some sort of tool]…[something I’ve never done]….[static].”

This morning I tackled it. I went downstairs, found a tool that brought to mind the word “pliers” (“Does it look like I could pull out a loose tooth with it?”), found a screwdriver, and removed those drawer pulls. It was not easy: those things were installed well over 30 years ago, and they did not want to evacuate the premises. One–probably the one I tightened and tightened and tightened before realizing about the nut–chipped mightily before finally coming loose. But they were out!

And here let us pause along with our brave worker, as she realizes that she has closed each drawer after removing the pulls–to get it out of the way and because it looks tidier that way. Let us turn discreetly away as bad words are uttered. Let us return after she has figured out a method of using screwdriver and pliers to gently pry open each drawer.

And let us turn away again as she realizes that the bolts for the new drawer pulls are much fatter than the old bolts, and that they will not be persuaded to fit no matter how much she clenches her teeth and tries to force them. In fact, let’s allow a curtain to fall gently over this whole scene: drawers sloppily open, nuts and bolts and old drawer pulls in a heap on the previously tidy bureau top, new bolts and drawer pulls abandoned in their too-fatness, ten minutes long since over. We will return tomorrow for part 2 of this particular project.

The freezer! It arrived! The delivery guys only dropped it once! Paul immediately put an entire box of Pop Ice in there, to see how long it would take it to freeze when it wasn’t spread out into sheets that slide out of the freezer every time you open the door. We also seem to be storing the energy-usage information in there for some reason. I need to go to the grocery store so I can fill up the rest. Isn’t it the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen? All that shiny white space.

I am anticipating another delivery today: a baby name book I pre-ordered back in October when I found out I was pregnant. It’s the new book by Satran and Rosenkrantz, who also wrote Beyond Jennifer & Jason. I really need it, too, because we’re stuck on names. Henry is the frontrunner right now, but I happen to know that my parents hate that name, and so even though I know they’ll get used to it, I’m reluctant to use it. We’ve pretty much knocked every other name off the list.

Alienbea tagged me for a meme! Yay! I tag Black Sheep.

1. What is your main cell phone ring-tone? It’s a ringing sound. It’s boring, but it gets my attention. I had it on music at first, but then I’d just be humming along to it without realizing it was my phone.

2. What is your default avatar? My…what?

3. What station is your car radio permanently tuned to? We have six pre-sets. The one I always try first is an alternative station, the kind with a disrespectful DJ and a limited playlist. Then I have two stations that play more popular music, and sometimes they’re good songs and sometimes I’m sick of them. (The other three pre-sets are Paul’s, and I don’t like any of them.)

4. What is your computer desktop image? One of the twins’ one-year portraits. Look at those toesies!

5. Is there something you wear every single day? I wear a uniform, practically: jeans, maternity shirt, hoop earrings.

6. I wish I had a tracking device on: Rob’s shoes: every morning it’s a hunt. Also, William’s stuffed platypus: every evening it’s a hunt.

7. What page does your internet browser open with? Google.

8. This item never leaves my car/purse: Maybelline Cola Slushie lipstick. Well, it leaves my purse when I’m putting it on. But then it goes right back in. Lipstick, I’ve noticed, tricks other people into thinking you’re pulled together, even if your hair needs washing and you have baby snot on your shirt.

9. What TV show do you never miss? We’re doing TV on DVD right now, because we always miss all of them.

10. What phrase do you hear yourself repeating too often? “Did you HEAR me?”

This makes for a lot of posts in a single day, but my goal is to keep this Digging Out stuff separate from regular posting. We are not a Cleaning Blog.

I have been thinking about the whole 15-minute thing, and I think we ought to ditch it in favor of 10. Not only does 15 remind me of Someone Whose Name Or Insect Species We Will Not Mention, but it’s too long. I was trying to get geared up to do my 15-minute thing, and I thought, “Ug, 15 minutes.” Yesterday when I cleaned my kitchen table, I set the timer for 10 minutes, and only added another 5 halfway through when I started feeling frenzied. But I was done after 11 minutes, and I spent the remaining 4 minutes picking labels off the Target bowls I decided to keep, which doesn’t count.

So! We’re only one day into this, I think we can make a change. It’s 10 minutes now. You may of course spend longer on it if you want to, or you may do two 10-minute things, but I’m thinking of it as 10 minutes = success. I’m not setting a timer anymore, either, unless it seems fun or motivating to do so.

Today I am turning my attention to another flat-surface-clutter problem area: the bureau in our bedroom. This bureau is one my parents bought before I was born, using a faux-finish kit (possibly referred to at the time as a “groovy-finish” kit) to paint it a hip green with happenin’ brown streaks. It looked ugly to me when I was growing up, but now it looks good to me–a combination of sentiment, old age, and the return of similar shades of green. The knobs have to go: they’re the white kind with black screws, seen on every single cabinet door from the 1970s. I have replacement knobs purchased and in the drawer of that bureau, but haven’t gotten around to replacing them yet. (See how I made that sound as if it’s been a matter of days? In fact I bought the knobs at least a year ago, maybe closer to two.)

One thing that’s not entirely fair about doing this surface is that I knew it would be one of my first tasks, and so I cleared a couple of things the day before yesterday. I know I shouldn’t have, but at the time I told myself I was only doing what I should be getting in the habit of doing anyway, which is clearing clutter as I go. I fold laundry in our room, and I often leave piles of clean dishtowels and washcloths folded on top of that bureau; I removed two teetering piles yesterday. I nearly put them back just for realism, but clutter had already closed in over the spaces they’d vacated and it was too late.

So here is a Before picture:

Items found on this surface (or nearby) included:

• both halves of a baby monitor, neither half of which we’re using
• two add-on panels for the baby gate, neither of which we’re planning to use
• a baby sun hat Elizabeth never wore and is now too big for
• an extension cord
• a Target bag embarrassingly full of clearance Valentine’s Day candy
• two votive candles
• the tube of Lansinoh I lost when the twins were still nursing
• half of a plastic Easter egg
• a whole lot of books, plus one more hiding under the bureau

And here is the After:

Much better. It would be better still if I could think of another place to keep that jewelry box, but I can’t.

Question the first: If someone emails you saying, “I wrote you this whole super-long email but then my computer ate it, oh I am so mad!,” do you tend to believe that this is true, or do you tend to believe they want credit for doing something they didn’t in fact do, plus an excuse for now being too discouraged to write a good email?

Question the second: I find Mr. Rogers very appealing, and I have affectionate childhood memory feelings for him and for his whole show. I was talking to another girl about it, and she said, “Eeee, he’s kind of creepy.” She’s about 10 years younger than me, in her early-to-mid 20s. My theory is this: people who were watching PBS as children in the ’70s feel affection for Mr. Rogers; people who weren’t even born until the ’80s think he’s creepy. The question is not so much a question as a survey: If you are in one of those two groups, say which one and say whether you like Mr. Rogers or think he’s creepy.

TO: Whom it should concern
FROM: Swistle, and anyone else who would like to be included
RE: Hormones and moods

Even in hormonal situations such as pregnancy, post-pregnancy, and menopause, women continue to experience normal life and react to it normally. Maybe a woman is angry because of hormones, or maybe she is angry because you have once again left your dirty dishes all over the counter and gone off to play on your computer. Maybe a woman is crying because of hormones, or maybe she is crying because there was a sad part in the book she was reading. Maybe a woman is crabby because of hormones, or maybe she is crabby because she is in a crabby mood such as any other normal human being might periodically experience in the course of normal existence.

If you are not personally equipped with Hormone Vision that allows you to tell the difference between a hormone-based mood and a non-hormone-based mood, it is best to assume that the mood is non-hormone-based. And in fact, even if you are equipped with Hormone Vision, does it matter which kind of mood it is? Is it helpful to speculate aloud that the mood may be hormonally motivated, or to communicate by your attitude that you think the feelings presented to you may be safely dismissed? No, it does not: it does not matter, and it is not helpful, and if you don’t want a frying pan to the face you’d better knock it off.

From the comments on the Housecleaning post, I think we are clear on two things:

1) There is at least some interest in a Dig Ourselves Out project.
2) None of us want to involve The Fly Lady.

Hey, I’m with you: The Fly Lady has some good ideas, but she’s more of a “I want to suck away your entire life” cult than a cleaning program. So! Let’s get started. I should warn you that anyone who is saying, “Oh, yes, I am SUCH a slob, I only do a big thorough whole-house cleaning once a week” is going to be appalled by the level at which we are starting. This is more the “Vacuum? Yes, I think I vacuumed last fall. Or was it the fall before that?” level of cleaning.

Today’s project is to choose a cluttery problem area and spend 15 minutes cleaning it. I know, I know, Someone Else does “15-minute” cleaning projects, but 15 minutes just happens to be a nice amount of time to spend, and so we are going to adopt that number without worrying too much about where else we might have heard it.

The cluttery problem areas in my house are so legion, it was difficult to choose one, but I chose the kitchen table. Here is what the table looked like Before:

And here is a partial list of things I found while cleaning it:

• a sleeper with a broken zipper
• two strawberry-shaped drinking glasses full of pencil shavings
• a bag of bowls I bought at Target and hadn’t decided yet about keeping
• baby congratulations cards from when the twins were born (June 2005)
• a block of wood
• toy plastic lump of green peas
• paperwork for the truck
• 2 bins (plus 1 pile) of baby books (I read to the twins while they’re in their high chairs)
• 2 flashlights
• a metal pint-sized ice cream holder

And here is what the table looked like After:

Better, yes? It’s not totally clear, but theoretically people could eat at this table now, and you can see much more of the vinyl leaf-patterned tablecloth I put on there in the fall of 2005. The baby cards are still there, but going through those is outside the scope of a 15-minute project window. I’ve reduced the baby books to one bin, and put the others in the babies’ room, to be rotated when I can’t stand even one more repetition of the ones on the table.

Now it is your turn! Go forth, and conquer a patch of clutter! Maybe you don’t have anything as bad as at my house, but you could tackle a pile of old mail, or a junk drawer, and if necessary reduce the time to 10 minutes. Go at your own pace, people.

I am not having a good housekeeping kind of morning. William and I made cookies, and they were supposed to be Choc-Oat Chip, but when I went to get out the baking cocoa, there were only scraps in the bottom of the container. Paul went to the grocery store last, so I asked him about the baking cocoa that had been on the list. He said, “Oh, yeah. I didn’t know what baking cocoa was.” O. Kay. No, don’t ask a clerk, or call me on your cell phone, or look in the baking aisle and see if anything is labeled “baking cocoa”–please, don’t trouble yourself.

So William and I made Oat Chip, no Choc. And the cookies came out all flat and greasy-looking, which is mystifying to me because I can be depended on to make cookies successfully: it is very unusual for me to be shaking my head at a cookie sheet and thinking, “What has occurred here?” They taste good, but scraping them off the cookie sheet was like trying to remove dried melted slug from the sidewalk, not that I have ever attempted such a thing, so I suppose what I mean is that it was like I would imagine such a task to be like, not that I have spent much time imagining it, either.

While the second batch was in the oven, the dryer buzzer buzzed. I went down to get a load of clothes, and discovered that they had purple marks all over them from some mystery source. I got increasingly frantic and tense as I took each item of baby clothing out of the basket (the rugby shirt I bought Edward yesterday, which he hasn’t even worn yet; Elizabeth’s favorite kitty shirt; the blue shirt with white sleeves I never know if I should put it in with whites or with colors), seeing which had been possibly ruined and wondering why why WHY?

I assumed that at some point I would discover the culprit item that had stained everything, and that it would be an item that would allow me to put the blame for this disaster firmly on some other member of my household–ideally Paul, who could be berated and made to feel my pain, rather than one of the children, who would have to be patiently instructed and educated. But nothing ever turned up: I put away the whole load of clothes, and there was no crayon, no skein of embroidery floss, no marker, nothing. And now my mind turns to the load of white laundry currently in the dryer. Oh, no no no no no.

Also, I need a good reliable recipe for oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. Anyone got one? Email to swistle at gmail dot com, and maybe I’ll post them and we can have a little bake-off.

Semi-Desperate Housewife tagged me for my very first meme! I tag Aoife of Farrago.

It’s called “The ABCs of Homemaking.” Let’s not dwell on whether that’s the kind of thing we homemakers find stimulating, let’s just answer the questions.

Aprons- Y/N? No. I do own several: a vintage grandmotherly half-apron with red rickrack, a large blue striped canvas one, a plain white one. But I never wear them, I just allow them to take up valuable cupboard space.

Baking- Favorite thing to bake? Cookies. Bars.

Clothesline- Y/N? As if.

Donuts- Ever made them? We made them a few times when I was a child, but I’ve never made them myself as an adult. I seem to remember they weren’t very good. Or maybe they were good, but too much trouble.

Everyday- One homemaking thing you do every day? Think about how I ought to clean more.

Freezer- Do you have a separate deep freezer? As of this coming Wednesday, yes!

Garbage Disposal- Y/N? No, and I want one so badly, because Paul can’t seem to remember that we don’t have one, and is always trying to stuff bits of raw chicken, vegetable trimmings, etc., down our sink. We have our own compost heap in the u-bend.

Handbook- Y/N? What? Like a cleaning manual I use? No.

Ironing- Love it or hate it? Iron is a vitamin supplement and a useful building material, that’s ALL. I do own an iron, given to me by my mother. It lives in its box, and I have removed it twice: once when we had a houseguest who needed one, and once when Paul had an interview and his shirt looked rumply.

Junk Drawer- Where is it? Kitchen, the smallest drawer. Also, on every flat surface in the entire house.

Kitchen- Design and decorating? We have a crappy 1960s kitchen with tons of floor space and about 2 square feet of counter space. The counters are that awful 1960s gold-flecked stuff, though, so I guess the less of it the better. The cabinets were dark pine, and since the kitchen is dark anyway, it was way too dark; when we moved in I painted the cabinet doors and drawer fronts glossy white. It looks…weird. But it’s lighter. I always mean to repaint them a better (but still light) color, but I never get around to it. The walls are the same “apartment cream” as the rest of the upstairs. I keep meaning to repaint that, too.

Love- What is your favorite part of homemaking? I guess I like baking best.

Mop- Y/N? Um. Yes! Oh, yes. Clearly I mop. Who wouldn’t? I mean, it would be really bad not to. So obviously I do.

Nylons- Wash by hand or in the washer? On the very few occasions I wear them, I handwash them and fling them over the shower curtain rod to dry.

Oven- Do you use the window or open it to check? Look through the window, then open it. Because I never learn. It seems like it would work to look through the window.

Pizza- What do you put on yours? Those yellow hot peppers; black olives; sausage; pepperoni; cheese; sauce. And I mean that Paul does it, since he’s the one who makes pizza. But those are the toppings I request.

Quiet- What do you do during the day when you get a quiet moment? Computer, or read a book.

Recipe card box- Y/N? Yes. Also books.

Style of house- It’s a raised ranch. When we moved in, the basement was unfinished, but my dad built two bedrooms and a family room down there after the twins were born, and now we call it “the downstairs.”

Tablecloths and napkins- Y/N? Assuming you could see the surface of the kitchen table under the clutter (and that would not be a safe assumption to make), you would see a leaf-patterned vinyl tablecloth. You might think I was just a little late changing it from this past fall, but actually it is there from the fall of 2005. We usually use paper towels instead of napkins.

Under the kitchen sink- Dish soap, hand soap, small appliances (see “counter space, lack of”), trash bags.

Vacuum- How many times a week? Per WEEK? I’m not able to answer in those terms.

Wash- How many loads do you do a week? An endless number. ENDLESS. Well, probably six or seven. I’m not sure. I’ll try to do better about keeping track for the next meme.

Xs- Do you keep a list of things to do and cross them off? Sometimes. And we have a white board in the kitchen for tasks that we don’t want to forget (like getting the oil changed).

Yard- Who does what? Paul does anything that gets done. Frankly, our yard is a little embarrassing.

ZZZs- What is your last homemaking task for the day? Doing anything that will make me feel crazy if I see it not-done first thing in the morning. Or meaning to.