Here in its entirety is an email that I sent to myself:
I can’t be sure what it’s about but if I had to guess, I’d guess it was about Father Knows Best. I have a lot of notes, emails and voice memos that I get down while I am doing the 6am FKB theater. I even have a draft started about how FKB uses clothing as plot devices and believe you me, it isn’t pretty.
Apparently, FKB can trigger some deep rumination if you are sitting in the dark just you and the Andersons and you are receptive/unguarded/sleepy.
I’m not prepared to expound on the clothing issue right now but I will tell you one thing. That Margret is a dunce. For a person who supposedly went to state college right along side her future husband, she sure is mystified by ordinary family happenings. Whether she’s pondering why Bud doesn’t want to eat his supper or what caused Betty to come home in a sad mood, her action is always the same. She lays a finger against her face, then suddenly bites her lower lip when she develops a conclusion and moves her hand away, giving it one short shake as if she was dispensing holy water. Her eyes never vary from their steady sparkle.
I will say on thing in her favor. That is some spic and span kitchen she runs there. I suppose that’s only fair since she does spend all of her time there, save for the moments she sits on the parlor sofa to darn things. Those counter tops are absolutely unpopulated. I did observe her recently in the background while the rest of the family conversed at the kitchen table. Although Margaret is frequently spotted removing butcher packages from the refrigerator or holding a bunch of carrots, it is a rare sight indeed to see her actually cooking. In this scene, she was dropping batter into a dutch oven on the stovetop, producing homemade dumplings.
She had a big mixing spoon that she would use to scoop up some batter from a nearby bowl, and then she would transfer some of that batter using a rolling motion to a table spoon and then drop the rounded product into the pot. I myself have never made a dumpling but her casual confidence as she did it sure seemed to me that she was quite adept at it. She even chimed into the conversation with a few well chosen words without breaking her dumpling production stride. That is the mark of an accomplished dumpling maker. I wonder if she learned that at state college?
Margret. Part dunce, part dumpling expert, all mother.