The June Cleaver Hipster Traits

June Cleaver would never wear bell bottoms, rock rose-colors sun glasses or don peace beads. June was not a hippie and I never thought I was either. This week I was labeled a hippie, and while I have never smoked pot in a room with scarves over lamps or burned my bra in a war protest, I feel like there is a part of me that can identify with that label. Though I thought I would be classified as more of a modern June Clever, perhaps I also encompass a modern hippie. So, I have decided to make a list which combines my two traits. I will call it, The June Cleaver Hipster Traits.

Trait #1: I love to make meals from scratch. They taste better and I think it is fun. I know I have told you that it is not uncommon to see me working in the kitchen with an apron on, hunched over my most prized, kitchen possession, my Kitchen Aid Mixer. (Seriously, if our house was on fire, I would maybe run into the burning building for that.) However, I like to make these meals with quality foods and sometimes, I do go the organic route. Those pesticides freak me out, and I can't stop thinking about how they were made to kill bugs, so what is that doing to me? Quite honestly, if we could afford it, I would maybe go 100% organic. How's that for hippie?

Trait #2: I love to be outside. I get rejuvenated from creation. **Side Note: when I was in college, there was a hill that was between our undergrad campus and our seminary at Bethel. The hill is known to students as Sem Hill. There is a bonfire pit up there, and a few benches and it is just beautiful. When I would get stressed out with classes or roommates, I would go up there by myself and just relax. In the summer, I love to go on bike rides and walks rather than drive my car, and I love to go camping. But you will never see me in a pair of Chacos. I am not that granola. I realized that this one sentence might alienate me from many of my Minnesotan friends, but let's be honest, you know me. I am more likely to rock out a pair of Mary Jane Crocs than Chacos. June Cleaver wouldn't wear them, and I won't either.

Trait #3: Speaking of footwear, my latest obsession is with Toms. Toms are canvas shoes that are the most comfortable shoes I have ever owned in my life. I cannot say enough awesome things about these shoes. The coolest part about Toms are that with every pair of shoes you buy, Toms donates a pair of shoes to a child in a third world country. It is fantastic. So, every time you buy something from them, you're also helping others. I have two pairs right now, and they are my favorite shoes, not only because they are cute and comfortable, but because it feels good to know that you are paying it forward. June Cleaver would definitely be down with that.

Trait #4: On Thursday, the night custodian came into our classroom to collect the trash. Next to the recycling bin was an empty plastic container that use to house animal crackers. The custodian had two garbage cans that he pushed into our class, but they looked the exact same, so I assumed they were both for trash. When he threw the container into one of his bins, I alarmingly informed him that the container can be recycled!! He then told me that was his recycling bin. I felt kind of stupid, but I am pretty into to recycling. Troy has been also. He even brings home his empty, plastic containers to recycle them at home. What a good green husband! Some people may think that recycling is granola, but going green saves energy which in turn saves money and keeps things nice for the next generation. June wouldn't want Wally or Beav's kids to be playing in a dump, so she would definitely be on board for the three Rs, reduce, reuse, recycle!

Anyway, even after I write this, I realize my friend who called me a hippie, was right. I don't think I ever thought about it before, but I guess I am and you know what? I am gosh, darn cool with that. As long as I can still be classy like June and wear my pearls and apron with my Toms.

Feminists, June Cleaver and Pancakes

I was born in the wrong generation. Though I believe that in marriage and in life, males and females should be on an equal playing field, I tend to take on many of the tasks and responsibilities that June Cleaver found to be in her job description. Since these two ideas often clash, I think the reason that I have pseudo-feminist views and yet still clean the bathrooms at home are due to the fact that I am an anal neat freak - not because Troy expects me to do these jobs. He has been known to pick up the mop and broom every once in a while too.

When I say that I was born in the wrong generation, I mean that there is a part of me that thinks traditional, "old-fashioned" ideas are romantic and cozy. I like making meatloaf and mashed potatoes from scratch. I think cooking is therapeutic and honestly, it just tastes better. I like to wear the black and white paisley apron that my sister, Laura gave me for Christmas two years ago. It protects my clothes and I think it's really cute. I like getting recipe cards from friends and family on 3x5 cards with their handwriting. It makes me feel closer to them when I am making their dish. I love place cards, handwritten invitations, candles and table cloths. I am June Cleaver in the new millennium. It is a role I embrace.

Sometimes my perfectionism gets in the way of me living vicariously through June. When a mistake is made in the kitchen, it suddenly becomes catastrophic and makes me want to throw my spatula at the wall. Since I am becoming more of a veteran in the kitchen, these temper tantrums have become almost non-existent. I almost welcome my mistakes now because then I learn from them. For example, I now know that sometimes the fancy cook books can still have misprints. (I had a breakdown after trying to make a chicken pot pie by Paula Dean. There were tears. It was not pretty.)

Pancakes, for whatever reason have always been a trouble spot for me. I usually burn most of the batch, the house gets super smoky and our smoke detector blares it's annoying warning which then forces me to grab a dishtowel and fan it down like a maharajah. Thus, I don't make them very often, even at Troy's request. Today, I decided, was the day that I grab a hold of the pancake reins and tame that beast. That, and I had some eggs in the fridge there were going to go bad this week. I still burned the first two pancakes and the house looked like we had left a fog machine on after a rave, BUT not a peep from the smoke detector was made and the rest of the pancakes survived!! Yay me!!

Suddenly, I realized that I figured out why I had always failed at pancakes in the past! I know how to make them right in the future! (Little things like not trying to multitask in the kitchen and then forgetting your little pancakes, or turning the heat up super hot, to name a couple.) As Troy and I munched on my super yummy, chocolate chip pancakes, we had visions of having Pancake Saturdays with our non-existent, well behaved, polite children who also happen to have impeccable table manners. We dreamed of having themed Pancake Saturdays: chocolate chip, blueberry, and maybe even German, Swedish and Pannekoekens as a nod to our heritages. One big happy Carlson family sitting around the dinning room table enjoying our pancakes and our Saturdays together . . . . sigh . . . . (If this paragraph suddenly gives to the urge to ask about out family time line, see Baby Fever.)

I think that vision is cozy and sweet. It comes straight from the June Cleaver's Bible for family, food and togetherness. If that makes the common feminist want to body slam me, come on over. I'll be ready with my cute apron and rolling pin. And after I have dominated that battle, I may even invite her to join us for Pancake Saturday . . . if I can find an extra place card.