Five Things I'm Not Good At. The Reds confess!

RHYS BOWEN: Last Time I hosted JRW I posted five weird things I was good at that most people weren’t.

Having confessed to all the things that scared me yesterday I thought I’d confess today to things that I am not good at, things that other people find perfectly easy.

1.         Opening things. Packages of cake mix. I invariably open one end just as I read the instruction “Open other end.”  Jars. Bottle tops. Potato chips. Medicines. If I were left alone I’d starve because I couldn’t open any item of food successfully.

2.         Also wrapping things. When I was in a gap year I worked in a corner grocery store in Germany. When customers bought boxes of chocolates we had to gift wrap them. You should have seen the faces after my attempts at wrapping. And thank heavens you can buy gift bags now because my Christmas wrapping was pathetic. My biggest fail is with strapping tape. I pull out a length. It immediately gets itself stuck on my clothes, folds up on itself, sticks to the wrong part of the package etc etc.  Always a disaster.

3.         Ironing. I have never mastered the art. My mother ironed everything, including my father’s underwear. When my girls were small she sent me adorable smocked cotton dresses for them. They were worn once then sat in the ironing basket until they were outgrown.

4.         Running. I have always been a terrible runner. When we had to run around the field at school guess who was among the last?  Strangely enough I’m good at sports that just involve short bursts of speed. I was a pretty nifty tennis player. Played for school and college and women’s league. And table tennis. I can still beat younger people. But my legs just won’t obey when I run.

5.         And finally proofreading.  I am useless at proofreading my own work because I see what I think I have written, not what is actually on the page.

So how about you, Reds. Five things you don’t do well that are a breeze for everyone else.

JENN McKINLAY: 

1. Navigation. I have no sense of direction. I will always go the wrong way. Always. I’m not even allowed to go to the mall by myself because my people fear they’ll never see me again.

2. Being sick. I am the WORST sick person. I whine and complain as if I’m about to die. Thankfully, I am rarely ever sick, which is a mercy for those who have to live with me.

3. Housekeeping. This is probably why I don’t like stuff. I don’t enjoy cleaning things and I can’t have cleaning people because I’d have to clean before they got here. Our dust bunnies have names and live in a warren under our couch. LOL.

4. Taxes. I can never get my paperwork to my accountant on time (she has the patience of a saint) and while we file on time, I rarely pay on time because I’m never prepared. Every year I promise to be better but nope.

5. I am a horrible musician’s wife. While I can know the words to a song, I can never remember who sang it, when it came out, or who produced it (why does anyone need to know this?). Hub knows all these things about every song ever written, I swear. He is a tolerant man. 

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Rhys, I’m laughing at your running comment. I had to do a questionnaire for my last physical therapy evaluation - you know, rate your ability to do this activity from 1-5. I got to running, and said to my therapist, “I haven’t run since I last got pregnant in 2000!” She let me skip that question.

1. Like Jenn, I’m not good at housekeeping. While I’d LIKE a sparkling clean home, I absolutely don’t care enough to engage in the endless grind that is dusting a 3,000 square foot 200 year old home where two cats and two dogs live.

2. Cooking. I don’t mean I can’t cook tasty meals, I can hold my own as a kid-pleasing home cook. But that’s as far as my talents lie. I constantly marvel when I’m visiting Celia and she turns out adventurous, gourmet dinners in a kitchen that’s smaller than mine! Like the cleaning, there are just too many other things I enjoy more than cooking, so any possible advancement gets sidelined.

3. Keeping plants alive. I have loads of houseplants, all of which are the hardiest species known to mankind. Any plant that couldn’t survive a nuclear winter is not going to make it at my place.

4. Keeping in touch, especially by mail. My poor mother and I were so mismatched in this regard, and it resulted in a lot of hurt feelings on her side and guilt on mine. She had a book solely for tracking every family member’s birthday and anniversary. She bought cards a year ahead of time and kept them in a box with monthly dividers AND she would write the mail-by date in light pencil on the envelope. Me? So, so not that. If you’ve ever gotten a card from me, save it, because it’s a collector’s item.

5. Getting out of any social situation on time. Because I like to talk. Lord, do I like to talk. Ross and the kids used to do a kind of huddle around me when it was time to leave the after-mass coffee hour. They would force me to the door, while I continued conversations over the childrens’ heads. I try to be better when I’m a guest, but honestly, there’s a 50% chance I’ll be the last person standing after a dinner party.

HANK PHILLIIPPI RYAN:  

1. Finding the meeting link. People arrange virtual meetings with me, they send a link. I swear,  totally swear,  those links vanish the minute they hit my mailbox. Where do they go? Where? I am ALWAYS looking for the darn link at the last minute and my editor now knows to just send it to me just before the meeting starts.

2.  Navigation. Totally. NO idea where anything is or how to get there. It’s ridiculous. I can read a map, turn onto Elm Street in three blocks,  that’s no problem. But how that translates to the real world is baffling. And dead reckoning? My husband can get there from here by just imagining how you’d have to go to do that. Never. Not a chance.  I do think it stems from the “north is up” problem, and also being left-handed. Sister left-handers will understand. Do NOT go the way I suggest.

3. Figuring out how showers work in hotels. Push, pull? Up, down. They say: the pointer always points to hot–but which end is the pointer? I could go either way on that. Plus, once you make the decision, the water temp always changes midstream, and then IN the shower, you have to make the terrifying  high-stakes decision of which way to turn the thing.   So I wind up scalded or freezing as well as wet.  

4. Small talk. I am terrible at small talk. I meet a new person, and after hi-how are you-fine, I am DOOMED. I know all the stuff you are supposed to say and I know the rules but it never works.  What’s the latest with you, I ask. Nothing, they say. Same old same old, they say. GAH. I tend to simpy run away.

5.  Labeling things for the freezer. “I’ll remember what this is,” I tell myself. “You can clearly see it’s chicken and zucchini.” “You’ll be able to tell by the shape that it’s a baguette.”  My poor freezer is filled with unidentifiable little packets. Do not tell me to label things. I know that,  I just don’t do it.

 LUCY BURDETTE: Rhys, these are things we think we aren’t good at, not what our husbands think, right? Because I think I’m an excellent navigator, but this makes John giggle…

1. Parking the car properly in a normal space. I tell myself to stay right or left and then I'll be fine, but I almost always end up with the car hugging the line so the next driver can’t get out. I pin this on my macular pucker surgery–depth perception hasn’t been right ever since. 

2. Getting rid of books I’m certain I won't read and preventing myself from buying new ones. This is a disease, Reds, and I'm afraid it’s Not Curable.

3. Addressing the kitty litter box early and often. I hate this job and every time I do it I tell myself if you’d scoop every day this wouldn’t be a problem. But it is.

4. Small talk, if you think Hank is bad, imagine two or three times worse. I was once on a  date with a cute boy in high school and I didn’t say a single word the entire time. Not a Single Word. Things have improved since then, but not so much…

5;. Spreadsheets. The Friends of the KW Library has some new smart board members and they want everything done on spreadsheets, in Google Drive. My brain does not work in spreadsheets. Period. 

DEBORAH CROMBIE: So funny! I am totally with Lucy on the parking. I thought I was the worst parker in the world, but maybe I have competition! (In our defense, we're short, and that makes it harder, I swear.)

1. I absolutely cannot remember the words to songs. It's like algebra, there's a missing link somewhere in my brain. But I have no trouble singing along once the song has started! And I can recognize songs from the first couple of notes. (Husband plays guitar–he's always testing me.)

2. I cannot fold. Anything. T-shirts, towels, you name it, I can't fold it. Everything comes out looking like lumps. Weirdly, however, I can fold a fitted sheet pretty darned well.

3. I can't keep up with email. (That is a whole other blog topic, email. Gah.) So if you have emailed me and you haven't heard back in a timely manner, I apologize. Send me a reminder. Or two…

4. i read recipes online all the time. I am especially addicted to NYT Cooking, to which I subscribe, and I love my Recipe Box. BUT I have never managed to make a recipe in the amount of time stated! Do these people have sous chefs? Do they do all the prep and then start the countdown timer? I am organized, my kitchen is organized, and I have pretty good knife skills. So what gives?

5. I am terrible at any kind of time management. See #3 above, as well as #4.  I'll say to myself, "I should probably start that recipe a half hour earlier…" But do I? Nope. There is always hope, however.

RHYS: I'm nodding my head and saying "Oh yes. Me too" as I read this list.  Housekeeping...I can wipe the kitchen counters and floor occasionally but thank heavens for Mirian who comes in once a week and does a thorough clean.

And Hank, those hotel bathrooms! A complete enigma to me. The number of times I've been hit in the face with cold water because I turned the faucet the wrong way!

Julia, keeping plants alive.  I kill every orchid I'm given even though I read the instructions and try hard. But I am good at navigating. Once I drove from Houston to New Orleans and turned into the hotel parking lot without having to check my route once. And this was before GPS.  And taxes. I do my taxes on time, every year. This is why the US can keep up with Stealth Bombers, because I fund them, single handedly.

So Reddies, now it's your time for confession!

How Competitive Are You?

 RHYS BOWEN: I have a confession to make: I am very competitive. Always have been. Always wanted to be top of the class in school, to win the ballet competition. I entered strange competitions as a child: I won a cash prize for my essay on why I liked a department store.  I was a really keen tennis player in my youth--played for my school, my college, but then later in life did not enjoy league tennis because it was so competitive, so perhaps I'm mellowing.

When I am playing any family game I want to win (this became ridiculous when I played Trivial Pursuit with my kids and they ended up handicapping me by having two of them reading out clues from different categories at the same time. And me: Iceland and 1934. Kids: rats!

And I regret to say that I have created competitive children. Two were elite athletes, playing for college and one for the US. But the others are just as competitive. Daughter Clare came home from school furious because she didn’t get a perfect score on a test in driver’s ed and she thought the instructor’s answer was wrong. It was a pass/fail course. It didn’t matter. But it did to her.

Over the years we have had endless family competitions: volleyball, corn hole, bocce ball as well as the games we play on holidays--Taboo, Reverse Charades and the Name Game--the current favorite. Everyone writes the name of a famous person on  a piece of paper. The reader reads them all out and we try to guess who chose which name. It sounds simple but the names are really creative and funny.

You should have seen the family when we went to a fun park with go-karts, water boats, mini-golf etc. The intensity to win as they drove those go-karts!  (especially the sons-in-law) This summer we’re all going to San Diego for a week on the beach. I imagine there will be plenty of beach games, swimming races etc!

Our strangest competition: when the first grandchildren were babies I bought a wooden puzzle of sea creatures you had to lift out with a magnetic fishing rod. The adults (especially the males) turned this into fierce competition as to who could lift all of them out and then put them all back first.  We had crackers one year with racing wind-up penguins in them. Endless races across the dining table.

But just the other day I saw a picture of a competition I would never want to enter: competitive ironing. That’s right. Room full of ironing boards and women ironing. It was for a Miss America pageant long ago when ironing was a skill of every good housewife.  I would be dead last!

So how about you? Is your family competitive? What is the strangest competition you have ever entered?

LUCY BURDETTE: Yes competitive! But sheesh the first thing I thought when I saw this post was that I better get my answer in before Hank did, LOL. And I know not to play scrabble with this JRW crowd either. My family was pretty competitive, I can remember playing rounds of board games like risk and monopoly, which my older sister almost always won. We also played giant games of kick the can while on vacation with all of the age groups represented. Teams would do anything to get near enough to home base to  kick the can and free their imprisoned teammates. I can remember things like adults driving a car near the can so other team members could drop out of the passenger side and take the guardians of the can by surprise. Or dress up in costume and pretend to be a random passerby, and then burst into a mad dash to the can.

On a more serious note, I was very competitive in school too. I think it was fifth grade when I received a report card that had two B’s on it (the rest A’s.) I went to the teacher, crying. She agreed to change my gym grade from B to A-. (Honestly, it wasn’t because my parents were ogres!) And to be honest, to stay in this writing profession, you have to be willing to compete hard with a million other writers. The great thing about our Jungle Red family is that we’ve figured out how to support each other at the same time!

HALLIE EPHRON: I am not competitive.

Stop laughing.

Seriously, I hate board games. Hate card games. I play Candyland with my grandson only under duress. I will NOT play Scrabble with my husband because he always… gets the good letters. All I get are vowels.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Right, Hallie. It’s the GAME’S fault. :-)  But I don’t play Scrabble with Jonathan because he’s too good. I mean--he is incredible. Words on many levels.  I can beat him at every other game, though, just saying. So he won’t play with me, either. We do compete on the Sunday NYT Spelling Bee word, though. (ANd FYI, I STILL insist Provolone is a proper name, and should not count. Anyway.)

(Have you played Code Words? It is SO much fun! We play it with the kids and grandchildren, and it’s amazing. Very brain-twisting.)

Okay, yes, I am competitive, but I kind of don’t look at it that way. I like to do the best I can possibly do at whatever it is, is more how I see it. I understand, though, that psychologically it’s not always ….the most rewarding thing to do. 

I well remember, word for word, a conversation I had with my mother when I was in high school. She told me: Honey, it’s better if you don’t always win. And I was absolutely baffled. I said: Why?  

And she said: someday you’ll understand.

JENN McKINLAY: I am actually not competitive at all. Weird, right? I have always played games for fun not to win -- much to the chagrin of my volleyball teammates. If I (or anyone else) hit the ball into the parking lot or the duck pond, I thought it was hilarious. The men used to get mad at me, but I wore them down. Finally, one of them admitted that while we were the losingest team in the league we were the most fun and laughed through the whole season. Sometimes we were laughing too hard to play -- you can’t beat that with a trophy.

Also, I love board games but mostly because of the ridiculous antics that come with them. Hooligan 2 came out wearing swim goggles, potholders, and a clothespin on his nose when he had to give his Ti Tia a winner’s foot massage at Monopoly! Hilarious!

As for writing, I am mostly competitive with myself and am constantly trying to write a better story, a tighter mystery, or try on a new genre. I genuinely believe that there is enough room at the table for everyone and if another author enjoys brilliant success, it reminds me that I have that potentiality, too.  

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Posting next to last to prove my point. Not competitive. (So that makes three for and three against, right? Julia can tip the balance! Seriously, having grown up with a brother ten years older that was the BEST at everything, there didn't seem much point. I'm terrible at sports (always picked last) so no fun competing there, either. I do want to write the best possible books, but that's because I don't want to disappoint myself or my readers. But I love love love trivia, so if I ever get to play on a pub team again, you'd better watch out! 

RHYS: So, dear friends--how competitive are you? And what is the weirdest competition in which you've taken part?

Can YOU Fold A Fitted Sheet?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I did something the other day that made me laugh. I recommended a detergent. I never thought I'd see the day when I got excited about laundry. 

Laundry has fallen to me in our family. For a while I waited until it was absolutely an emergency, then did like five million loads. (Remember, there's only Jonathan and me. But the laundry piles up like crazy.)

Now I am in the do-it-once-a-week mode, which is only three loads. Whites, colors, and the other stuff that I don't know what is.

At one point in my life, I had a person who did the laundry.  It was heaven. I loved her. She ironed the sheets. She ironed my white t-shirts.

You'd think it wouldn't make a difference, but wow. It does. And then--
She moved to Florida.

When we were in Italy, I bought gorgeous gorgeous towels at Frette. I had them shipped home, then I washed them. They shrank into wizened twisty out of shape un-towel-like things. I called the Frette store in Boston, and explained my distress and dilemma.

Oh, the salesclerk told me. You have to IRON Frette towels.

Yeah. Like I'm gonna do that.

But I do love folding laundry, it's so soothing and so rewarding. You start out with a random basket of stuff, and then up with nice folded organized nice-smelling clothing. A big sense of accomplishment. Especially when I can fold a fitted sheet so it's not all puffy and weird. Which is--sometimes.

(There's a video about sheet-folding secrets, which I'll try to find.)

How do you all feel about laundry?   

HALLIE EPHRON: What I feel about laundry is probably unprintable. I haven't got the patience to fold, though I do love the results.

Fortunately early on I had the good fortune to turn my husband's underwear pink. Then a black crayon found its way into the dryer and, well, another mess. So he does all the laundry except for mine which he lets me turn any color I like.

Iron towels? You gotta be kidding.

INGRID THOFT: I don’t have strong feelings about laundry, but my husband does, which is why I’m the laundress of the house.  He doesn’t mind getting it in and out of the machine, but folding it is a skill he claims he can’t master.  This, from a software engineer, but he gets a pass because he does plenty of other things around the house.

 When I do laundry, I always think about my mom, sisters, and friends who do laundry for a household of more than two people.  How do they have time for all the other chores of life?  I feel like I spend too much time doing our everyday laundry, which is then doubled by our workout clothes.  I can’t imagine keeping multiple people in clean clothes.

As for ironing, my mom visited a couple of years ago and asked to use my iron.  When she was done, she said, “You haven’t ironed since you moved here?” I scoffed.  Of course, I’ve ironed.  “And you resealed the iron in the box with shrink wrap?” she wondered.  Oh, that.  Maybe I haven’t ironed in a while!

JENN MCKINLAY: Laundry has caused a weird division of labor in our house. When I was home and the hooligans were half-sized, I did ALL the laundry, most of the cleaning and cooking. Then when the writing took off even though I was home, I simply didn't have time to maintain it all so now all the household chores are shared. As for the laundry, Hub does our clothes, the Hooligans do their own clothes, and I do the odds and ends (sheets and towels). I don't iron them. I sort of wish I did iron them because I actually enjoy ironing - don't judge me! - and I bet the sheets and towels would be amazing with a good steamed press. Alas, no time.

HANK: I love it, too. I just don't do it anymore.

JENN: I do sneak into the Hooligans' rooms and refold their laundry because they haven't quite mastered the folding yet and wrinkly clothes bug me. Shh, don't tell!

LUCY BURDETTE: I'm the laundress in our house too. It is a satisfying job, at least temporarily, until things get dirty again! Last fall I became disgusted with our yellowing whites, and Googled how to fix that without using chemicals. There was a complex recipe involving baking soda, Borax, and white vinegar (maybe some other things too.) I tried several loads and different recipes, but nothing worked. I think I'm going off to buy that stuff Hank suggested, chemicals be damned! Unless someone has the secret of those whiter whites??

PS: ironing piles up in our house until we absolutely have nothing to wear. Towels and sheets? Not in this lifetime!

RHYS BOWEN: A while ago I was doing a radio interview and the interviewer said," You seem to be a woman of many talents. What don't you do well?"  And I said, "Ironing."
My mother ironed sheets. She ironed my father's underpants.

And me, I only iron when absolutely necessary, as in twice a year. When John and I were engaged, in the first flush of love I offered to wash and iron his white uniform shirts (Qantas)
I returned them to him and he said,"The laundry does them better."
AND I have never ironed a shirt since!

But I don't mind the laundry these days. We have a super high tech washing machine that gets clothes wonderfully clean and uses little water. Only downside...it is so deep that I almost stand on my head and risk falling in to rescue that last sock.

And bedclothes? They come out of the dryer and straight back on the bed.  I can never understand the English insistence on drying everything on a clothes line in the fresh airs on it winds up stiff and rough. Drying with an English towel. Is like running an emery board over the body!

DEBORAH CROMBIE: My thoughts about folding laundry are surely as unprintable as Hallie's. Laundry is the bane of my existence! And there are only two of us! But I cannot keep up with it. Half the time the clean laundry is in a huge unfolded pile on the chair next to our dresser. I cannot fold anything to save my life, especially sheets. Rick is much better at it, if I can just get him to do it. He also irons much better than I do, from years of being a bachelor and having to iron his own work shirts. The funny thing is I actually like ironing. It's very relaxing. Maybe today I'll get to all those piled up pillow shams and tea towels that need a little pressing....

In my fantasy life, I would have ironed sheets. But I've never heard of ironing bath towels. I obviously do not move in the right circles!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I do the laundry for four, with help from the Smithie (usually) and Youngest (occasionally.) We have an electrical outlet issue where the dryer would hook up, so I line dry everything. I have an extendable line that spools out across the timber crossbeams in my thirty-foot-long family room, two lines outside for summer time, and an old-fashioned "clothes horse" that often goes in front of one of the wood stoves. Sometimes I dream about just chucking things into the dryer, but I do get to feel unsufferably smug about being so green.

With the four of us, plus towels, tablecloths, sheets and napkins, I normally do a load a day five or six days a week. Ironing? Usually at the last minute and only if it's something that can't be hidden beneath a jacket. I've been known to tell the girls, "Those wrinkles will fall right out from the heat of your body." We'll often wait until there are two or three baskets and then one of the girls and I will fold them while watching something on Netflix. That, to my mind, is the great thing about laundry-related chores: it's so easy to do them while listening to an audiobook or podcast or while watching TV.

HANK: How about you, Reds readers? Any laundry secrets? Do tell!  Do you care about having the whitest whites?  Do you just throw everything in together? Are you a hot-hot or a cold-cold?  Do you iron your sheets?  Can you fold a fitted sheet so it is not a puffy disaster? Tell all!


(photo credits: Inge Neilse, Katarzina Bialewicz, rotten cards, kzenon)

Counting our can'ts

Yesterday's winner of an eBook from the LUCKY series by Deborah Coonts is Kathy Reel! Kathy, email me at hallie "at" hallieepron dot come and I'll put you and Deborah in touch.
 
HALLIE EPHRON: When I was in grade school, I hated maps because it was always about being printing neatly and coloring within the lines, two skills which I am constitutionally incapable of.

I also cannot make pie crust without leaving the kitchen and myself covered with flour. And I cannot fold. My daughter (who was briefly a salesperson at The Gap where she aced Folding 101) has tried to teach me, but my folded items always come out crooked.

There. Confession is good for the soul.

And because misery loves company, I'm asking you to confess: what simple skill would you love to be good at but you just don't have it in you?

RHYS BOWEN: I don't know that I've ever yearned to be good at it, but I'm hopeless at ironing. My mother used to iron my father's underwear and all the sheets. I always manage to put in as many creases as I take out. Especially shirts. Can't do sleeves.

And like you, Hallie, I'd love to have a linen closet with beautifully folded sheets and towels. I once had a cleaning lady who made it look like Martha Stewart lived in the house. But alas she went to nursing school.

LUCY BURDETTE: What a disappointment Rhys! :) I am a disaster with remote controls. John has at least six of them with which to run the TV, DVR, Roku, sound surround, and who knows what else. I cannot keep in my head which to turn what on, which to move to what setting, and on and on. Besides, I'm impatient about it and can't understand why it has to be so complicated.

He says if something bad happens to him, I won't ever again be able to watch a TV program. And that could be true--all the more reason to keep him around.

Oh, I've just thought of something I'm not good at and would love to improve, and that's wrapping packages. I've never learned to do those perfectly folded corners and impressive bows. Thank heavens there are boxes and bags these days so I don't have to display my deficiency so often.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  I am a great present wrapper, and a great ironer, and love to do both.

HOWEVER! There have been times when I have gone upstairs to where Jonathan is reading, and had to ask him to come down and turn on the television. NO idea. Roku, Amazon Fire, NO IDEA. When he's not home I barely can watch TV. Sometimes I can't even get the set to go on.

And Hallie, that is hilarious. I cannot fold at all. I can't even figure out how to hang towels on towel racks. In thirds, then flap them over? But then they are too long. In thirds, and then in half, then flap them over? But then they are too puffy.

I think I'll go watch TV. Oh. No.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I am pleased to say I have mastered the feminine arts of ironing, folding and present-wrapping (though I don't enjoy the latter. In fact, I own the worlds largest collection of gift bags, and on Christmas morning, I make everyone hand me their bags as soon as the present is out and then I refold them and put them away that afternoon.)

What I'm inept at: the TV/blu-ray/VCR-DVD set up and their controls. If I want to watch a movie, I have to call one of the kids over to set it up for me. Pie crust, which is an embarrassment, as my grandmother and mother were expert crust-makers. Candy. My mom used to make the best fudge in the world. Every time I've tried it, it comes out a hopeless blackened gludge. Or a rock.

I also can't play chess to save my life. Ross loves it, and taught all the kids when they were young. He runs the school chess team for third-to-fifth graders! But me? I'm as hopeless as I am with poker ( I can never remember the hands or trumps or whatever they're called,)

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Hallie, I also worked at the Gap, so I too can fold like a professional!

And I'm with Hank on the remotes and technology. We have gaming systems and all kinds of crazy things (I don't even know what they are) and I have to say the Kiddo is very patient at trying to explain it all to me. Again. And again.....

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I am so happy to see that we share the some of the same disabilities!  I cannot fold to save my life. I am so covetous of perfectly folded sheets that I even bought a big thick book on housekeeping  hints that had diagrams showing how to fold a fitted sheet. It didn't help. I'm hopeless. I end up with a big lump. T-shirts, forget it. I have friend who worked for Gap in college--I used to get her to pack my suitcase for me. It was heaven.

Nor can I iron. Are the two related?  I can, however, wrap a very nice package. And do nice things with ribbon.

As for the TV, I can't watch the one in the living room unless Rick is home and can tell me which buttons to push on the universal remote control. There are at least sixteen steps to actually get to TV, and I can never remember them.

But, Hallie, don't hit me--I can actually make a fairly decent pie crust. Heaven knows why.

HALLIE: I won't hit you, Debs. I make a good pie crust, too. I just end up looking the Pillsbury dough boy when I'm done.

What about the rest of you out there? What do you really wish you could do?