Seeking next door neighbor

FALLen angel autumn display. No one in my neighborhood found it funny.

Who would you like to live next door?

You know, the person who you wouldn't care popped over unannounced? Someone who has similar life priorities as you and the same sense of humor? And didn't judge?

I love that scene in Stepford Wives when Bobby commented on Joanna's messy kitchen. Since all her neighbors had turned Stepford, complete with immaculate homes and shallow personalities, Bobby commented that Joanna's sticky kitchen was a "home away from home."

I totally get it.

My mom had a good friend. Let's call her Carol. Carol's house always appeared lived-in and she was a riot of good times. She also wasn't consumed by creating a spotless museum for her family.

I'm still looking for my Carol. In my neighborhood, it's unacceptable to have laundry on the dining room table and the rusted running board from the Jeep in the side bushes.

Here's one lady I wouldn't mind as my next door neighbor: Nancy. She loves her family, cooks, creates, and has a great time with her grand-babies. I can imagine she would be a blast to hang out with.

Who is your dream next-door neighbor?

Obligatory laundry soap recipe

I know. I know. 

You've seen this recipe all over the Internet. Please forgive me as I add it to my recipe collection here. 

As a bonus, I have done the math about cost savings of making laundry soap vs. buying detergent. 

Here is how I make homemade laundry soap. It only takes me five minutes to prepare a batch.

Homemade Laundry Soap

Ingredients:

Bar of Ivory Soap, unscented
Borax
Arm and Hammer Super Washing Soda
Essential oil (optional)

Directions:

You may wish to wear rubber gloves but I don't.

1. Get a plastic bucket with lid (like an empty ice cream tub).

2. Shred one bath bar of plain Ivory soap—not scented, with a cheese grater.
    (Beware of any soap or beauty bars with perfumes or oils. They may stain 
    your clothes!)

3. Combine the Ivory soap shreds with:

    2 cups of Borax

    2 cups of Arm and Hammer Super Washing Soda

Don’t inhale the cloud of powder while stirring. It’s not too much of a cloud, but still the same…keep your distance. 

Use 2 tablespoons of this soap per load. Some loads I use double (dog blankets) and some loads I add a couple drops of essential oil (um, dog blankets).

If you use cold water and hang your laundry to dry (way to go!), then you might notice white soap spots, just a few. These brush off with a toothbrush, hair brush or fingernail. No big deal, really. Shredding the bar soap finer may remedy this. If you use cold water and dry clothes in the dryer, you probably won’t notice any white spots.

This soap does not make suds and that’s OK. It also doesn't have a scent other than the Ivory soap scent, which is nice. For more of a laundry smell, tumble dry load with a dryer sheet or hang clothes outside for a fresh air scent.

The math:            

       
Borax (76 oz.—11.5 cups) costs $2.98 at WalMart.
Washing Soda (55 oz.—5.5 cups) costs $2.79 at Schnucks.
Ivory soap costs about 35 cents per bar.

There are 16 tablespoons in one cup.
One bar of Ivory soap shreds into about 4 cups.

To make 44 cups of laundry soap (704 tablespoons):
(1) Box of Borax, 11.5 cups - $2.98
(2) Boxes of Washing Soda, 11 cups - $5.58
(5.5) Bars of Ivory Soap, shreds into 22 cups - $1.93

Total -$10.49

$10.49 should do approximately 352 loads of laundry (704 tablespoons divided by 2…to reflect using 2 tablespoons per load). Compare this to brand name laundry detergent selling for $11 to do only 80 loads.

This method is only smidge more effort but a lot of cost savings!

*Disclaimers: I am not an expert. Your results may vary. Keep out of reach of children. This recipe was not tested on a high efficiency washer. This recipe was used in a home with a sewer system as opposed to a septic system. Prices may change and vary from store to store.

Mom, I got gum on my pants

Yep, gum on his pants. He knelt down on some and really imbedded it within the fabric fibers. 

Thanks for a fresh challenge, son!

Instinctively, I slathered some peanut butter onto the spot and rubbed it in.

Nothing budged. 

Then I remembered something about ice hardening gum, allowing it to be scraped from fabric. I put some cubes on top and waited about 20 minutes.

After scraping with a knife and not much fuss at all, the gum was gone.

Worked like a charm! 

I don't know if the peanut butter helped or if I could have skipped it.

But I do know that a day without gum on your pants is a good day, indeed.

 
Shared on these neighborly sites:
Natural Living Mamma
The Prairie Homestead

Exotic ecosystem for the boudoir

Once upon a time when I was a young wife, one particular housekeeping nuisance caused me such grief. I would lose sleep, pace the floor and stew about the house. What could have been such a horrible annoyance?

Unmatched socks.

Everyone deserves a companion, I thought. What has become of Grey Heel's better half? Oh sure, I could mate him with White Heel...but what if Grey Heel's former partner shows up?

Like in the movie, My Favorite Wife. Poor Irene Dunne.

These days, I'm proud to announce a humane system of handling troublesome loner socks.

The bedroom sock basket.

There is no more tube, anklet or mid-calf drama. A permanent fixture in the boudoir, the basket occupies a teensy space. It's not invasive or offensive. Quiet most days, it hurts no one. 

It is symbiotic.

There is no pressure to pair the chronically unmatched. I'd even say, the day there is no sock basket in my room, is the day when I have too much free time.

Here is the process:

After easy-going socks have been paired, a clan of rowdy rebel socks surface. Instead of reacting with a horror movie scream (as I used to do), I say, "Hello Boys" and off they go to the basket.

That is their punishment for seeking love elsewhere.

I've done it so often, I don't feel remorse. One might say I've become desensitized.

Perhaps socks don't dread the basket. It's not such a bad place to be, I imagine, from a sock's perspective. They probably enjoy passing the time together.

Maybe stories are swapped about the old days when they were in the loop of mainstream laundry. Perhaps they console one another about sock hardships: toes popping through, getting lost in the dryer, being worn outdoors. Oh gravel! That's the worst.

Well, that's what I suppose they do in there.

Their community has been kept pure. No unsocks reside in the basket. If they get stirred around, perhaps two socks will reunite! 

I shan't lose hope!

Would it be a happy reunion? Or would they each blame the other on their circumstances?

Sock 1: After the slumber party, I was carried into the house. You were just lying there in the van. You lazy slob, all rolled up in a ball, not moving an inch. You don't care if we stay together do you?

Sock 2: I was so sad you left me in the van. I was hoping someone would kick me. I even rolled up into a ball--you saw that. Alas, not even a strong wind budged me.

Both socks sob and hug the best way socks can.

So you see, the sock basket is to me, I would guess, what a Habitrail is to other people.

Maybe I already do have too much time on my hands.

 

 

Common sense? How offensive.

I would love to hang out my laundry, but I'm fairly certain local covenants and restrictions prohibit such a thing.

Let's look it up.

The precise wording from our community association is as follows:
"No permanent poles for attaching wires or lines for the purpose of hanging laundry thereupon shall be erected, installed or constructed on any Lot."

I spoke to the ACC (architectural control committee) coordinator at the community association. He told me laundry poles were the issue, not laundry itself. If we rigged up a retractable system, that would be fine. He also told me to check with the city to make sure they did not have an ordinance against drying laundry outside.

So, I spoke with the city code enforcement representative. She told me there was no ordinance she knew of against it; but almost no one hangs their laundry outside here. 

Her voice oozed discouragement. 

She said maybe one or two people have done it within the last five years; but usually their neighbors report them to code enforcement. (Why? There is no ordinance against line drying!)

She helpfully took my street name so there is now a record of my phone call, just in case someone complains about our laundry. Once again...I don't know why it matters if there is no ordinance against it!

The benefits of hanging laundry are so many--energy conservation, sterilization by sunlight, money savings AND aesthetics. I gaze dreamily at the clothesline photos on the Project Laundry List website. 

Come back common sense!! 

I miss you.

This post was shared on these neighborly sites:
Fresh Eggs Daily
Natural Living Mamma  
The Prairie Homestead