Thursday, February 23, 2012

Spatulas, They're Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

A spatula fell out of my car this morning as I was dropping Heather off in front of her school.  Her school nurse, who is just a fabulous lady, happened to be walking by and asked if I was done making pancakes.  I got laughing with her and explained I didn't have an ice scraper the other morning.  It was a WWMacGD moment (what would MacGyver do).  Well you go grab a spatula and use that instead of course!  But that's the way I grew up.  Watching my mom come up with nifty little ideas like that.  You should see the things I can do with coat hangers and paper clips too.

Then I started thinking about how I am pretty good with plumbing.  I can snake a toilet, replace a kit, the float etc. And there's no one who can take care of our InSinkerator like I can.  I can't be bothered with waiting for Brad to come home and unclog it, or make it start spinning again.  I have things to do for heaven's sake...And don't get me started with how I can jimmy a lock with my credit card.  My neighbor's kids that used to live next door to us in Woodlake would come over at least once a week saying they were locked out.  Their mom was a single mom, and her girls would take care of themselves after school.  Wonderful family, great neighbors, I miss them.  Anyway, they'd come over and I'd get my credit card out.  Barbara was forever grateful, which if you think about it, she was grateful that I would break into her home lol, but that's the way that neighborhood was.

I grew up, born and raised, in the same house on Crescent Beach Road in a suburb on Long Island's former Gold Coast.  The Woolworth and Pratt estates were at the end of my road, as was a lovely beach.  J.P. Morgan donated his estate and property within walking distance from my home in an area called the Landing, really spectacular and picturesque.  I lived in the decidedly middle class section of this road.  My parents bought the house for a whopping $11,000 from my mom's Aunt Marie back in 1965 or 66.  That's how you got houses where I grew up.  You knew someone, or knew someone who knew someone who could give you a deal on house.  There were no subdivisions, just older homes, like this Cape Cod, that the original part was built in 1911.  So you bought an older home and added on to it, sort of like a Lego house.  My parents added their bedroom and bathroom, redid our (my brother and mine) bedrooms, and added this glorious Florida room to our little cape over the years.  But during all of the additions, I learned a thing or two about construction.  I can remember the four of us demolishing my room and my brother's room before the addition of my mom and dad's room on the upstairs.  It was fun for a kid about 10 years old to rip old plaster board out and toss it into the dumpster parked below my brother's window.

Of course it was all family that helped do the work.  Cousin Pepe was our plumber and took care of heating, cousin MA hooked us up with cement mixers, dump trucks etc.  Cousin Two-Ton took care of carpeting and such.  I cannot remember who did the dry wall and mudding, I am thinking it was Johnny Im?  Anyway, I learned how to mud like a maniac too.  I dare you to try and find where my daughter had her rock climbing practice wall in her room before we painted it, go on and look. Smooth as a baby's behind that mud was.

But this was life as I knew it.  I can still remember the day TonyBoy came over with his little back hoe to help excavate our basement and how he hit a load bearing piling.  Our Lego house almost came tumbling down.  Again another exciting moment for a kid that had no idea why my mother was using words that could make a sailor blush lol!  But how many other kids can share memories like this?  Am I really waxing nostalgic for my house almost being demolished hahaha?

Landscaping and yard work, another thing that I do in this house not my husband.  My grandfather started a landscaping company after he took his retirement from Grumman's.  We loved to tend to his garden and I'd get to hear his stories about life as HE knew it growing up back in the day.  I still use what I learned from him when I garden.  If I keep tomatoes, I put a red platic cup that you cut the bottom off of around the bottom of  the plant so the cut worms don't cut through the stalk.  Or use crushed egg shells around the base of your zucchini and squash plants to keep the slugs away.  I spray plants with a mixture of dish soap and water to kill Japanese beetles.  He was the original organic farmer before that became all the rage.  And talk about your primitive medicine, he used to put spiderwebs on his cuts, yes spider webs.  Sometimes he put honey. I learned later on in an archaeology class I took in college that spider webs do have a rudimentary form of penicillin in them. But a plethora of knowledge he was and the man could play the mandolin, guitar and harmonica like a beast.  I used to love fishing with him too, but that will be a blog for another day.

The sad thing is my girls will never know all of those little pleasures I grew up with.  Our houses have always been new, our subdivisions don't let you keep a big garden.  When we needed a bigger home we went and bought one, there are new homes galore around here.  Odd to consider such things as little pleasures, but truly they were in hindsight especially.

And we have no family here.  Not that we need help with building a dormer, or digging out a basement, but even for a Friday night get together, which was how my family spent most Friday nights, gathering with family, they don't have that.  We have friends that count to our hearts as our family, but my girls will never know what it's like to be in a house with 50 or so people celebrating a Holiday, a birthday, or just being Italian!

Good time, good times.  Now I am thinking of Friday night at Aunt Dolly's, mmmmmmm.  I am making myself hungry and suddenly have the urge for pancakes, off to make them!  Now where did I put that spatula lol?

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