Little boxes on the hillside

"Little boxes on the hillside,

 Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
 Little boxes on the hillside,
 Little boxes all the same."

             

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1990. Song Lyrics to Little Boxes

This song played through my head when I pulled out these recipe index card boxes.

Four index card boxes

For a long time, before I started a blog for it (Rooms with Windows), I would keep a record of the books I read on 3x5 cards in one of these boxes, alphabetized by title.  At the end of each year I would pull out the cards and transcribe the notes to a spreadsheet to create my annual reading list (can you say "anal retentive?).

Even further back, before my beloved Palm Pilot, I kept the business cards I collected in a couple of these boxes.  I still have a much larger (think, Michael Jordan-size shoe) box full of business cards which I've thought about using to create wallpaper in my office (I know, how geeky-nerdy can I get?).

The green plastic one I picked up at an estate sale.  It's full of recipes, mostly from the 60's and 70's which means "oleo" is an ingredient and there are fifty variations of jello desserts.  I can't imagine why anyone would not want to keep their family recipes, even ones evidencing such an obvious sweet tooth, although maybe diabetes was a contributing factor to the loved one's demise and these would be a bitter reminder.

The Christmas design is a box of recipes from my step mother that she no longer wanted.  There's a story here; recipes written on church bulletins during the potlucks or directions for dishes that may have been a family favorite from her first husband's side of the family.  There a lot of sweet desserts with pineapple and coconut featured prominently.  It makes me think I grew up in an age where sugar addiction was a concerted effort put forth by our home bound mothers.

I've picked out a few recipes to try though I don't know if I'll really get around to it.  At this point in my cooking life I'm pretty confident I can create something edible with not much prompting from a recipe.  I think too that the recipes we collect are more about wanting to emulate the cook than the food she'd prepared.  Maybe her happy family, satisfied husband, or well-groomed children could be replicated if we nourished our family with the same foods.  Then again, maybe recipes represent a burst of enthusiasm for creativity in a daily mundane task that now is either completed unconsciously or omitted entirely.  

These little boxes full of dreams of order and happiness, plans for pleasing and memorable meals are going to Goodwill.

A fallow season

Here at the start of September I'm without a contract for work.  In the meantime, I'm looking for things to purge and found these aluminum drinking glasses.

aluminum drinking glasses

I ordered these many years ago to remind me of my Grandmother Schwab.  See, we went to visit her back East only a couple of times when I was a child, maybe when I was 9 and then again about 12, I'm not sure of the dates.  She lived in the same home on Mansion Street in Coxsackie, NY, which her and my grandfather rented until they died.

Her kitchen always smelled of fresh baked goods.  It had high ceilings and linoleum floors.  There was a woven calendar on the wall and one of those 1950's kitchen tables with the matching armless chairs.
I was given a picture recently of her kitchen at Thanksgiving in 1971, with her and my Uncle Tom.  He passed away last year, the last male Schwab.

 She kept a cookie jar on the counter that always seemed to be full of chocolate chip cookies.We'd have those cookies with ice cold milk out of her brightly colored aluminum drinking glasses.  I'd had a set of the red/blue/green ones similar to hers but they weren't quite the same.  These are the same shape.


I loved my Grandma very much, even though I only saw her in person as a child a few times and then as an adult when I traveled to the East Coast on business occasionally.  She was a "blessed are the meek" person, as my Mom would say, because she was a gentle spirit who would always laugh at my Grandfather's teasing.  My love for her was a reflection of my own Mom's deep love for her.

The glasses are going to Goodwill but the memories remain.

2014 in 2014

What better way to start the new year than with a resolution?  I love new beginnings and the start of a new year is one of my favorites.  In the year 2014 I'm going to get rid of 2014 things.  It sounds like a huge number, 169 or so each month, but I suspect there is enough stuff around here that I can achieve it.

Now, I'm being pretty generous with my counting.  I have at least 50 spools of thread that I can cull and over 200 books that haven't been opened in years.  Each colored pencil that has languished in a drawer will count as an item.  It's not so much the things as the process.  Sort of like "moving in place" and seeing what's left.

I plan to post each month about what goes out the door and share some pictures and stories along the way.

Keep me honest please!