Ah, Midge! You're here. And only ten minutes late, I see. What's that? Oven's on the fritz? Waiting for a repairman? Is your telephone on the fritz as well, Midge? Because a perfect lady always calls when she's going to be late.
Forgive you? Why of course I will! Consider it forgotten.
Today, I wanted to talk about a book my husband gave me. It's all about being a good wife - in fact, it's a guide! There are handy tips inside that I can use to better myself. And what do I always say about bettering oneself, Midge? That's right! A perfect lady can always improve.
So, Midge, let me review the first rule with you: praise your husband.
That's right, praise him. And not just frilly little things. No, Midge. Serious, grounded-in-reality praise. Because men know if you're faking it.
Usually.
Ahem.
Let me rephrase that: men are excellent at spotting a false friend. So you must give your man praise he can trust. Here are some examples of compliments I've given my husband:
* My, your hair looks well-oiled this morning.
* Your new suit makes your arms look tiny and your shoulders look large.
* Those socks very nearly match your shoes!
* Your nose appears very chiseled when you wear that tie.
* When you cough like that, you remind me of the adorable walruses at the zoo.
* Lighting your cigarette is most enjoyable - like having a mini-campfire in our living room!
* I love rubbing your feet - I pretend I'm a servant to a prince and this is your castle! I imagine the children are alligators in your moat.
* You devoured that pot roast like a champ.
You see, Midge? It doesn't take much. Just pointing out those little loveable things that your husband does. Appreciating his quirks and turning a potential negative into an extreme positive.
Midge, I'd recommend you learn this trick. It might help you to land a husband of your own. Not interested in meeting a man? Oh, Midge! You simply don't know what you're missing.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get dinner ready and write down a list of compliments. A perfect lady's job is never done!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The Perfect Dinner Party for Twelve
Hello, Midge! Didn't see you there. Welcome, welcome. Sit down a spell and we'll start today's lesson. Sure, you can have some coffee. Cream? Well, of course I'll get it for you. Wouldn't want you to have to lift a finger, Midge!
Alright, are we ready to begin? Wonderful.
According to what I've been reading in my 1950's copy of The American Woman's Cookbook, it seems the hallmarks of a proper (perfect) lady can be clearly defined based on four (4) skills:
1. How well she prepares a sit-down meal for eight.
2. How good she looks after shopping, cleaning and shoo-ing the kids off to bed before daddy arrives home.
3. How well she lights a cigarette and prepares a martini.
4. How well she makes small talk with business associates and their wives (specifically note how gaily she laughs).
Which brings us to today's topic. The dinner party. The perfect place for a perfect lady to shine. And with all sorts of new-fangled technology, preparation is a breeze!
But wait! There are some rules to note, before you go charging blindly into a night of creamed chicken and boiled lobster! Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?
In order to host the perfect 1950's dinner party, these are the steps you MUST take:
1. Think about your guest list. You don't want to invite a group of people who all work at the same profession. My, how boring that would be! Why, just think of yourself in a room full of actuaries. Now imagine how much you'd want to strangle yourself into unconscious bliss. See? Not good. Memorable,yes, but still not good. Instead, mix it up a bit! Maybe hold your party a bit later (try after nine pm) so you can invite 'musicians, bachelors, physicians and newspaper people'. Not sure about inviting a person made of newspaper? Just keep him away from the fireplace and cigarettes and you're golden! And here's a bonus tip from our book: invite the gayest people you know for a humdinger of a do!
2. Prepare, prepare, prepare! Dear lord, don't do anything but cook for at least forty-eight hours before the big event. And don't forget to clean. A clean house is an acceptable house. And if you're cooking, you're cooking for eight. Or ten. Or more. Any way you cut it, you've got your hands full. Which is why you really ought to invest in an electric mixer. I tell you, it's the bee's knees. And get to know your stove. Because it holds the food that you'll feed to your husband. And he, dear Midge, is the most important person to ever eat at your table. What's that? More important than God? Well, Midge, when he shows up in your alcove, you just tell me.
3. Deal with the children. That is, feed them at least two hours before the festivities and then send them away with a cup of warm milk. The last thing anyone really wants to see is your child - many people simply find them uninteresting or annoying. So put them away. In a closet, under a bed; whatever works for you. The point is that children must stay quiet and out of the way. Now, there is on exception to this rule: family functions. If you're holding a family dinner, it would hardly seem right to shuffle little Johnny off to his room. No, in this case a stern pre-dinner lecture about proper posture, utensil usage and manners is in order. If you must discipline the child, remove him from the room before the beatings commence. It's just good form.
4. Serve the food. It's your big chance to show off all that preparation, so do try to get it right. Surround your large dining table with smaller service tables for ease of serving. What's that? Well, I don't know, Midge, how small tables help with serving. But the book says it and I haven't seen YOU write anything that's been published, so button it.
5. Get a maid. Or at least rent one. Many women, says the book, CAN handle a service by themselves - but really, it's unnecessary. You could just hire or borrow or rent a servant and save yourself so much stress. It's ideal. In the case that you simply cannot afford one (or, like me, would prefer to do EVERYTHING yourself), fine. Just be aware of the fact that you want to get everything on the table at the same time, sit down, be pleasant, enjoy the whole meal and not leave until you clear the table. And you better be back within the amount of time it takes people to light fresh cigarettes. Anything less would be simply gauche.
6. Retire to the rumpus room. Everyone has one - come on, Midge, even you! Ideally, yours will look like an old English tavern of sorts. In the case that yours is meant for your children to destroy, you may want to remain upstairs in a living or family room. After all, the children simply CANNOT exist at your party. They promote indigestion.
7. Drink the bar dry. Now, Midge, you live alone so you'll need to ask a man in your life to help you with this next bit. You see, women simply can't buy their own alcohol -it's not allowed. And heaven help you if you YOURSELF serve it at your party! Tongues will wag! People will faint! You MUST borrow one in possession of a penis to help you with this unladylike task. To pay him back, you can make sandwiches the next time he entertains!
And with a quick peck on the cheek and a witty remark, your guests stumble to their cars and leave thinking, "my God, that party was wonderful. Fred sure is a lucky fellow to have a lady like Mary."
And Midge, do you know what happens then? You go to bed, Midge. After doing all the dishes, vacuuming the floors and making your husband's breakfast and lunch for the next day.
Because you, dear Midge, want to be a perfect lady. Always the perfect lady.
Alright, are we ready to begin? Wonderful.
According to what I've been reading in my 1950's copy of The American Woman's Cookbook, it seems the hallmarks of a proper (perfect) lady can be clearly defined based on four (4) skills:
1. How well she prepares a sit-down meal for eight.
2. How good she looks after shopping, cleaning and shoo-ing the kids off to bed before daddy arrives home.
3. How well she lights a cigarette and prepares a martini.
4. How well she makes small talk with business associates and their wives (specifically note how gaily she laughs).
Which brings us to today's topic. The dinner party. The perfect place for a perfect lady to shine. And with all sorts of new-fangled technology, preparation is a breeze!
But wait! There are some rules to note, before you go charging blindly into a night of creamed chicken and boiled lobster! Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?
In order to host the perfect 1950's dinner party, these are the steps you MUST take:
1. Think about your guest list. You don't want to invite a group of people who all work at the same profession. My, how boring that would be! Why, just think of yourself in a room full of actuaries. Now imagine how much you'd want to strangle yourself into unconscious bliss. See? Not good. Memorable,yes, but still not good. Instead, mix it up a bit! Maybe hold your party a bit later (try after nine pm) so you can invite 'musicians, bachelors, physicians and newspaper people'. Not sure about inviting a person made of newspaper? Just keep him away from the fireplace and cigarettes and you're golden! And here's a bonus tip from our book: invite the gayest people you know for a humdinger of a do!
2. Prepare, prepare, prepare! Dear lord, don't do anything but cook for at least forty-eight hours before the big event. And don't forget to clean. A clean house is an acceptable house. And if you're cooking, you're cooking for eight. Or ten. Or more. Any way you cut it, you've got your hands full. Which is why you really ought to invest in an electric mixer. I tell you, it's the bee's knees. And get to know your stove. Because it holds the food that you'll feed to your husband. And he, dear Midge, is the most important person to ever eat at your table. What's that? More important than God? Well, Midge, when he shows up in your alcove, you just tell me.
3. Deal with the children. That is, feed them at least two hours before the festivities and then send them away with a cup of warm milk. The last thing anyone really wants to see is your child - many people simply find them uninteresting or annoying. So put them away. In a closet, under a bed; whatever works for you. The point is that children must stay quiet and out of the way. Now, there is on exception to this rule: family functions. If you're holding a family dinner, it would hardly seem right to shuffle little Johnny off to his room. No, in this case a stern pre-dinner lecture about proper posture, utensil usage and manners is in order. If you must discipline the child, remove him from the room before the beatings commence. It's just good form.
4. Serve the food. It's your big chance to show off all that preparation, so do try to get it right. Surround your large dining table with smaller service tables for ease of serving. What's that? Well, I don't know, Midge, how small tables help with serving. But the book says it and I haven't seen YOU write anything that's been published, so button it.
5. Get a maid. Or at least rent one. Many women, says the book, CAN handle a service by themselves - but really, it's unnecessary. You could just hire or borrow or rent a servant and save yourself so much stress. It's ideal. In the case that you simply cannot afford one (or, like me, would prefer to do EVERYTHING yourself), fine. Just be aware of the fact that you want to get everything on the table at the same time, sit down, be pleasant, enjoy the whole meal and not leave until you clear the table. And you better be back within the amount of time it takes people to light fresh cigarettes. Anything less would be simply gauche.
6. Retire to the rumpus room. Everyone has one - come on, Midge, even you! Ideally, yours will look like an old English tavern of sorts. In the case that yours is meant for your children to destroy, you may want to remain upstairs in a living or family room. After all, the children simply CANNOT exist at your party. They promote indigestion.
7. Drink the bar dry. Now, Midge, you live alone so you'll need to ask a man in your life to help you with this next bit. You see, women simply can't buy their own alcohol -it's not allowed. And heaven help you if you YOURSELF serve it at your party! Tongues will wag! People will faint! You MUST borrow one in possession of a penis to help you with this unladylike task. To pay him back, you can make sandwiches the next time he entertains!
And with a quick peck on the cheek and a witty remark, your guests stumble to their cars and leave thinking, "my God, that party was wonderful. Fred sure is a lucky fellow to have a lady like Mary."
And Midge, do you know what happens then? You go to bed, Midge. After doing all the dishes, vacuuming the floors and making your husband's breakfast and lunch for the next day.
Because you, dear Midge, want to be a perfect lady. Always the perfect lady.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Who, me?
No, no. Not me. I'm definitely not always the perfect lady - but I DO have a strange fascination with how to BE the perfect lady.
And by perfect lady, I really mean the perfect housewife, if you want to know the truth of it.
And why?
I blame my grandmother.
She ironed socks.
She folded underwear.
She could cook a turkey, clean a floor and bake a pie. She could curl her hair with orange juice cans. She knew how to balance a checkbook, walk in heels and draw on her eyebrows (albeit less successfully in her later years).
And she made it all look easy. Effortless.
It's that - that simplicity - that sheer elegance - that's what I want to learn.
And so I shall. With the assistance of the interwebz and some good ol' fashioned book-learning, I shall present one 'perfect lady' lesson a week. Now, just know that I WILL be writing it mostly tongue-in-cheek. And that (just for kicks) I'll be assuming a different persona...and she will be called Mary (a nice old-fashioned name). And hey, let's meet on Tuesdays, shall we? I'll make the coffee cake and tea, you wear that feathered hat of yours. Oh, and bring Midge. She's oodles of fun.
Ta for now, darling.
And by perfect lady, I really mean the perfect housewife, if you want to know the truth of it.
And why?
I blame my grandmother.
She ironed socks.
She folded underwear.
She could cook a turkey, clean a floor and bake a pie. She could curl her hair with orange juice cans. She knew how to balance a checkbook, walk in heels and draw on her eyebrows (albeit less successfully in her later years).
And she made it all look easy. Effortless.
It's that - that simplicity - that sheer elegance - that's what I want to learn.
And so I shall. With the assistance of the interwebz and some good ol' fashioned book-learning, I shall present one 'perfect lady' lesson a week. Now, just know that I WILL be writing it mostly tongue-in-cheek. And that (just for kicks) I'll be assuming a different persona...and she will be called Mary (a nice old-fashioned name). And hey, let's meet on Tuesdays, shall we? I'll make the coffee cake and tea, you wear that feathered hat of yours. Oh, and bring Midge. She's oodles of fun.
Ta for now, darling.
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