I'm Back

I had an interesting week. Mr. Clean (aka Uncle Dick) called me a couple days ago. He wanted to know if I had his weed killer bottle at my house. See, his twin (aka my dad) had borrowed it months ago and never returned it. Uncle Dick wanted to know if maybe my dad brought it over here to kill my weeds. First, I was surprised to even hear my dad cared enough to kill any weeds, whether at my house or his. Second, I was sure I didn't have his weed killer bottle here. I offered Uncle Dick my bottle of weed killer I just bought at Home Depot, but he didn't want that one. He wanted his fancy bottle, that attaches to the end of the hose. He said he searched my parents garage and didn't find it anywhere. The thought of my poor, spotless Uncle Dick rummaging around in my parents borderline hoarder-house looking garage scared me. Don't get me wrong, my parents garage is not that messy to the normal viewer. But when you are there to transform the garage from the winter garage to the summer garage, you see the mounds of junk my dad hoards. He is really good at hiding it. He hides his junk in these leftover cupboards he hung on the wall from our old kitchen. I made the mistake of opening the cupboard door while helping my dad clean the garage, and I swear I saw something slither away. The stuff in the cupboard included old broken hose nozzles, chipped planters still filled with dry dirt, oil cans, wires, old fishing reels, car washing soap and wax from 1982...etc. I begged my dad to let me throw some of this stuff out. I have never seen my dad wash a car ever in my life, but still, he wouldn't let me throw it out. I picked up a lone lid, to whatever, my dad didn't know, but he insisted on keeping it. Then he has this metal shelving unit stuffed with junk. He hung an old ratty curtain over it to hide his hoarding treasures. On these shelves I found this hangy thing made out of sea shells, it once hung in our house, it was ugly then and it is even uglier now that its been in the garage for years collecting dirt and dust. There was also this stuffed flower with a smiley face, it's gross, probably has gnats living in it, do you think he would let me throw that thing out....nope. He said and I quote, "When you bury me, you can throw out anything you want." Which, worked because then I felt guilty. I just know someday I will have that ugly, bug infested stuffed flower hanging in my house because of my dad. I will make Gina take the ugly seashell hangy thing.
Back to poor Uncle Dick, he was telling me how he can't believe my dad would lose this bottle, and he said he was going to make my dad buy him a new one. I was thinking, wow this thing has to be really expensive, it attaches to a hose and everything. I was ready to call Cheryl, she's our "Bank of America" when we have to buy expensive things in an emergency. Then Uncle Dick says, "That's right for once I am going to make him replace what he lost and that bottle was $19.00!" Guess I won't be needing Cheryl.

After hanging up with Uncle Dick, I called Minnesota where my parents are spending the summer. My mom answered. I told her the story about dad losing Uncle Dick's weed killer bottle. Mom started "Lori...let me tell you about your father, he's an asshole, ok? Since we have been here at Cheryls, whats it been a month? He has lost two fishing poles and a pair of Cheryl's sunglasses. Yesterday he came home from fishing and told me his prescription glasses fell into the lake, but the string was still around his neck, so I asked him, how the hell did they come off if you still have the string around your neck? Your father said they just slipped out of the string. So now we have to pay 187.00 to get new ones, but your father doesn't want to pay"....this is where I begin to tune her out, she goes on and on and on...finally I interrupt her and say "Do you realize you have been talking non-stop for 7 minutes, I haven't said a word in 7 minutes!!!!" "Can you please ask Dad if he knows where Uncle Dick's weed killer bottle went" Mom answers in one word "Fine"
When my dad got home from fishing my mom relayed the story to him, (probably a much longer version). Dad called Uncle Dick and told him he left the bottle in either his garage or my Uncle Dicks garage. BIG HELP!

Uncle Dick's garage is spotless, if the bottle was in his garage he would definitely know. So poor Uncle Dick headed back to the hoarders garage and you will be very relieved to hear Uncle Dick finally did find his weed killer bottle in my dad's garage in another hoarding spot by the front door.

Even though my parents garage is far from spotless, it is the place everyone comes on warm summer nights. Like every Italian family out there, my parents transform their garage into a living room in the summer time, complete with custom made screens, mom's old furniture set and rugs. I use the word "rugs" loosely, it's more like remnants. Used remnants that have been torn from rooms my dad tiled. He also took my old oval kitchen rug which lays on top of the remnants. They have a few old welcome mats thrown around on top of other remnants. I am not sure why? We are all constantly tripping on these little rugs with the curled up edges. THROW THEM OUT!!!! But honestly, the garage is so fun. We all hang there, my Aunt Kay and Uncle Dick come over in their jammies. We talk and laugh. But we can't see anyone because my mom makes us sit with the lights off. My mom is a freak when it comes to mosquitos. God forbid you try to leave. You can barely get out the door without her yelling "CLOSE THE DOOR!! You're letting all the mosquitos in!". Can you feel the love?

Mom's Sabotage

I have to write today about my mom and her sabotage. She is going to yell at me again for throwing her under the bus. But, I am only speaking the truth. She should be happy and consider my blog free therapy. I am making her a better person by holding a mirror in front of her beautiful face. (see, I can be nice)...

After 44 years I have finally figured out why I cannot duplicate my mother's recipes. The realization came just 2 days ago when I called her and asked her how to make her delicious greens and beans. Here's the transcript of our phone call.

Mom - Hello?

Lori - Hi Mom, I bought everything I need to make your greens and beans with sausage, so can you tell me how to do it.

Mom - It's simple all you do is put the greens in the frying pan...

Lori - WHAT? Aren't I supposed to boil them first?

Mom - Oh, yeah you can, I do when I am making them

Lori - Well don't you think that's an important part to leave out? OK fine so I boil them for how long?

Mom - only about 5 minutes, then drain them really good. GENE...YOU DO THAT AGAIN AND I'M GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!!!

Lori - what's he doing...?

Mom - I am leaning over Cheryl's kitchen island and he keeps putting his hand up my duster. (mom and her dusters, her dusters are these little summer dresses she buys at flee markets) MY KNEE ISN'T UP THAT HIGH AND IT'S ON THE OTHER SIDE!!! YOU DUMB SOMMMANAH BITCH!! Your father told me he was trying to touch my knee, well my knee is facing the other way. I'm gonna kill him!

Lori - Kill him later, so I drain the greens really good then what?

Mom - put them in the sausage then add the beans and the bean juice

Lori - What about garlic? Yours has a ton of garlic in it

Mom - Oh yeah put garlic in it

Lori - when do I put the garlic in, you have to tell me all the directions, I never made these before!!!

Mom - You put garlic in the pan first!!!

Lori - Well you never even mentioned the garlic, and it goes first!!! I think you are a little threatened that I might make these better than you, so you are sabotaging the recipe

Mom - (laughing, but trying to hide it from me)...NO I'M NOT....I figured you would know to put in garlic!!!

Lori - Well I don't know...you have to tell me!!! So I fry up garlic..then add the scrambled sausage and the beans

Mom - NO!! Don't put the beans in before the greens, put the garlic, then the sausage, then the greens, THEN the beans, then your done.

Lori - WHAT??? I'm done...wheres all the juice, yours has juice in it, cuz I use bread to dunk

Mom - Oh, I sometimes put in a little chicken broth

Lori - OHHHHHHHH, another ingredient you so "innocently" forgot to tell me about!!! You are sabotaging my greens and beans, you are scared I might cook as good as you!!!

Mom - (laughing so hard she can't even speak) NO I'm NOT!!! (still laughing)

Lori - I think you are, I had to PULL the ingredients out of you, is there anything else you are not telling me about making the greens and beans????

Mom - (still laughing) NO! YOU PAIN IN THE ASS!!

Lori - Fine, I will see how they taste after I make them!!!

So there you have it, proof she is trying to sabotage my cooking abilities. This is not the first time either. This phone conversation sparked my memory of the time I asked her how to make her artichokes. She gave me most of the recipe but "forgot" to tell me to put a little splash of oil over each artichoke once they're stuffed. And she "forgot" to mention that I am supposed to baste the artichokes while they are cooking. So my artichokes came out with dry stuffing and I just about gagged trying to eat them. Once I got the full instructions, my artichokes could win a cooking contest. Even my dad likes mine better than my moms!! Take that!! Rosie the Sabotager!!!

Shhhh...Qwuiet, I'm Hunting Whrabbits!

Hunting is another passion of my Dad's. He used to hunt small game, rabbits, squirrel and deer. Yes, like the Beverly Hillbillies, we ate rabbits, squirrel and venison growing up. As far as I'm concerned this was child abuse. If I had known they were making me eat rodents, I would have called 911.

Getting back on topic, I can remember the excitement in November when hunting season started. My dad would be out in the back yard for hours shooting his bow. He stacked up a few bales of hay, and attached a white and red target to the front. He looked so cool in the hunters "stance". He stood sideways, pulled back the string of the bow, as far as he could. His 3 middle fingers tips rested on the corner of his lip, his left eye closed, he lined the arrow up until it was perfectly aimed at the bullseye. He was so good, he would hit it almost every time. I remember my sisters and I standing behind him until he shot all 4 or 5 of his arrows. He would let us pull the arrows out of the haystack and return them to him. We ran back and forth for hours. Now that I think about it, he had it made, all he had to do was stand there, and we would run like little slaves for him. Honestly, we didn't mind a bit, we loved it.

Saturday and Sunday mornings of hunting season, my dad would get up before the sun. He would make his breakfast of coffee and cereal. After breakfast, he would start preparing for the hunt. He would fill his thermos with the left over coffee, put some oreos or chocolate chip cookies in a baggy for his snack/coffee break he would enjoy later in his tree stand. Once his little knapsack was all set, he would start the ritual of transforming himself into Rambo. Dad dressed in layers. First, extra large long-johns, also known as thermal underwear. They were so big on him, the crotch hung down to his knees. Dad tucked all the extra length material into knee-high wool socks. Next came the big camouflage one piece suit. This suit, also way too big for him, just swallowed him up, but he was warm and cozy with lots of room to groove. Then came the camouflaging of his face. He had this huge cork board, he would rip off a hunk of cork and heat it over our stove's flame. Once it turned black, he rubbed it on his face, in parallel little lines. He looked like an Indian getting ready for battle. Finally, he would sling the bow over his shoulder and around his little body and off he went.
We used to watch out the window for his van. If we saw his van backing in, we started yelling and cheering like little Indian squaws. Backing in meant a dead deer was in the van. We rushed to find our shoes and coats so we could go see it. Even though they were dead, I used to think of them as my new pets. I would go to school and brag to my friends. "My dad got a deer yesterday, it's hanging upside down in my garage. I named it Bambi." Man, was I warped. It would hang in the garage for a few days, then off to the slaughter man. Dad had two deer heads stuffed and now they hang in my dads "man cave", also known as the back room. He was a great hunter.

I used to love when my dad went hunting for rabbit and squirrel. Once in a while he would bring me to his favorite rabbit hunting spot. Just me and him in a really fun wooded area with large rocks to climb on. He would head towards the woods, and tell me to stay and play on the rocks. I know...leaving a child unattended is not good, but it was the 70's and it was my dad. He would check on my once in a while, especially if I was making too much noise. He would come over and say, "Lori, stop yelling, you're scaring away the rabbits." I would explain, "oh, sorry dad, I was playing alligator."

Alligator was one of my favorite games. The rules are, jump from rock to rock without falling on the grass, if you fell in the grass you got eaten by the alligtors. (This game also worked in my moms living room, we would throw her couch pillows on the floor for our rocks). So there I was, a perfect little girl, playing alligator while my dad was hunting for our dinner. He is my hero. He can do no wrong...right?

Think again - just imagine my horror when I grew up and realized Dad's favorite rabbit hunting spot was actually the Churchville cementary, and the rocks I was so happily playing "Alligator" on were dead people's tombstones!!!!!!!!

No wonder I am warped!

My Dad's Family Tree -

My dad's father was also his uncle. So now you know how he got that "weird streak".

I will try to explain this, but even I am confused by it. Here it goes..

My Great Grandmother Elizabeth, married a man with the last name Cataldi. She was only 12 years old on her wedding day. (I know, sounds sick doesn't it, but you have to remember this was back in the 1800's). They had 3 sons, Fred, Ted, Frank and one daughter they named Mary, this is my grandmother. I have met Uncle Ted and Uncle Frank many times. But I never got to meet my Uncle Fred. He was killed as a POW in World War II.

Great Grandpa Cataldi died, not sure when or how. A few years after his death, my Great Grandmother Elizabeth remarried a man with the last name Giraulo. He had 3 sons from his previous marriage. Their names were Reed, Flo, and Earl. Everyone loved Uncle Earl, he was so gentle and loving. He used to make rosaries every day. He could fix, build or mend anything. He lived as a pauper in only one room of my great grandmother’s old house. He never bought anything new. He would visit the dumps on a daily basis to see what he could take home and restore. He died with $250,000 in his bank account. He willed this money to all of his brother’s children. I believe he was a saint.

So my Great Grandmother Elizabeth is now a Giraulo. The Giraulo she married had 12 brothers. (I believe no sisters) One of his younger brothers named Floavanti, married Mary Cataldi (my grandmother). So Floavanti Giraulo, married his step-niece Mary. They had 4 beautiful children, Aunt Doll, the twins, Uncle Dick and my dad, Gene and Uncle Ted. That is how my dad’s father is also his Uncle. Step-Uncle that is…but I like to say just uncle so it freaks people out!