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Sue Spitulnik

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Sue Spitulnik

I am a retired grandmother that grew up in western New York State, left for 25 years, and am now back in the area. I happily live with my husband and two cats. I am pro-military, writing, food, family, and quilting. I am con-exercise, insulting commercials, and lack of common sense. I have met some great friends through this website.

Cheese Pizza; No Toppings

 

On September 5th, one of the most popular varieties of pizzas gets its day of honor.  Hold the toppings, please. It’s National Cheese Pizza Day!

  • In ancient Greece, the Greeks covered their bread with oils, herbs and cheese which some believe is the beginning of the “pizza”.
  • In Byzantine Greek, the word was spelled “πίτα”, pita, meaning pie. 
  • A sheet of dough topped with cheese and honey, then flavored with bay leaves was developed by the Romans.
  • The modern pizza had its beginning in Italy as the Neapolitan flatbread.
  • The original pizza used only mozzarella cheese, mainly the highest quality buffalo mozzarella variant which was produced in the surroundings of Naples.
  • It was estimated that the annual production of pizza cheese in the United States in 1997 was 2 billion pounds.
  • The first United States pizza establishment opened in 1905 was in New York’s Little Italy.
  • Pizza has become one of America’s favorite meals.

I included the above information from the National Day Of Calendar because I was under the false impression pizza did not originate in Italy.  I stand corrected and hopefully you do to.

So, what toppings do you like on your pizza.  The picture shows what Americans call a white pizza, just oil and garlic under the cheese.  My grandson will eat a red sauce pizza with just cheese when he refuses everything else.  Personally, I like mushrooms, black olives, roasted red peppers and artichoke hearts with fresh mozzarella and pesto sauce. My husband likes spicy meats, lots of garlic, oregano, and crushed red pepper flakes with red sauce and gooey hot cheese.

In ninth and tenth grade, because my older sisters had gone off to college and beyond,  I often had three or four girl friends stay overnight on the weekend.  For a snack, I would make a pizza, using the crust mix, sauce and parmesan cheese that came in the box and usually add pepperoni and mushrooms.  Recently two of the ladies that had been there as teenagers told me how awful those pizzas were.  Funny, they always got eaten, if not in the evening, then cold for breakfast.  I should probably admit to you folks they couldn’t compare to a fresh hot pie from the local pizzeria but in a one block town, at that time, we didn’t have that luxury.

The last point above must be true because there are at least ten different pizza joints within three miles of my house in the suburbs.  A little further away we have a new place that has great gluten free crust, and for one price, they put on all the toppings you ask for as you go through the line (like building your own sub).  I like to go there, everyone can have their own choice of flavors on their lots-more-than-just-cheese pizza.

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National Newspaper Carrier Day

My husband and I enjoyed a very nice conversation yesterday about his years as a newspaper carrier.  He was involved in delivering the Sunday out-of-town paper(s) in Hornell, NY, from September 1960 until August 1966.  During that time period Hornell was around 15,000 people and it took ten carriers, on foot, to cover the city.

The boys each pulled a wagon, with the sides built up, that held editions from Syracuse, Buffalo, Rochester, and New York City.  At each house he would put the papers in between the screen and front doors so nothing blew away, and the person getting the paper didn’t have to walk outside for their morning news.  Some of the papers were more than an inch thick and some houses got more than one edition.  After he delivered, which took three hours, then he had to retrace his steps to collect from each patron so he could pay for the papers that day.  That was a lot of work for just over $4.00 profit.

As we talked he remembered the names of all the streets he covered, then explained what a pain it was to pull the heavy cart, with small wheels, through the snow; generally in the street because sidewalks weren’t shoveled, around cars and drifts stating at 6AM.  Once he got his license he went to work at 4AM to drive to pick up the papers at the train station, take them to the newspaper distribution building, help sort and stuff, then deliver.  By that time he was active in high school sports and also had a night time restaurant bus boy job, on top of being interested in dating.  He laughed when he told of some Saturday nights he didn’t go to bed, then slept most of Sunday after he finished his route.  At the end of the conversation we realized he has been working since he was twelve years old, in some capacity or another.  That has been his hobby all along.  And he’s still at it 55 years later, more than 40 hours a week, because he likes to.

We now live in a city where all newspapers are either put in your box, or in a bag and thrown somewhere in the driveway.  I tried to Google if small towns still have boy carriers that walk, ride bikes, or pull carts but I couldn’t find any information.  I’m guessing with how labor laws have changed, the paper carrier is an adult, riding in a car, but I’m not sure.

Next time you go out in your pajamas to get your paper, think about what time your carrier got up to deliver it and be thankful it arrives, rain, snow, fog or humidity!

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Dedicated to Dack S.

I’m looking forward to football season, or should I say the start of the games that get the teams into the playoffs.  I don’t pay much attention to the pre-season games because I’ve heard they don’t make any difference and I’m not quite ready to admit summer is almost over.  I’m a watch from home person; I can’t get into spending twelve hours in a day to watch a four hour game. (That includes drive-time, tailgate time, the game, getting out of the parking lot and then driving home.)

My step-son went to the University of Kentucky.  While visiting him one fall over ten years ago, I went to my first tailgating party.  I expected hamburgers, hots and potato chips.  Silly me.  UK is a HUGE football college.  There was a big surprise  for me when we got to the parking lot.  It was full of RV’s with room size rugs laid in front of them, canopy tents, lawn chairs, full size gas grills, and coolers, larger than I had ever seen, full of beer, wine and food.  We ate different types of salads, grilled pork loin, vegetables and dip, and no chips.  WOW!  I don’t remember anything about the game.  Like I said we were visiting, so I only went once.

I have some very close friends that are Buffalo Bill’s season ticket holders.  I’ve asked on more than one occasion how they can party in the parking lot, then sit through four hours of game in 30 degree weather.  The answer is, “We dress for it!”  Okay, that makes sense.  Then I ask, “Doesn’t it get old when your team is in a slump?”  You should see the looks I get.  The wife says to me, “Who cares if the team wins or looses.  We go to tailgate.  We’ve been parking in the same lot for years and have made all sorts of friends from all over the place.  It’s the only time we see them.”  Now that makes sense to me.  The wife posts very interesting recipes on Facebook that she will try for the next tailgate.  Then she posts pictures of the ‘gang’ having fun.  They wear lots of Bills gear and everyone is laughing or smiling.  When there is an away game, the ones that are from here gather in the same local bar to watch together.  I guess I’m a little jealous I don’t have a group of friends like that.

Unfortunately the husband passed away two years ago on September 11.  His tailgating friends didn’t even know he had gotten sick just after season’s end the year before so it was a sorrowful shock to them.  This is how they paid tribute to their friend that weekend.  This is the hill behind the parking lot.

dack

The good part is the wife and adult daughter have been able to keep their season tickets.  I’ve already started seeing new recipes for this season and the daughter has a steady boyfriend to enjoy the fun with.

I know it’s been two years since the Patriot Guard escorted my friend to his final resting place, but it feels like yesterday.   GO BILLS!

I sewed every one of those patches on Dack’s vest.  I knew his trip schedule as well as his wife.

dack2

 

 

 

 

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National Lazy Mom’s Day

Personally I think this day should be named, Give Mom a Day Off.  The description says this is a day for moms to not do the dishes or the laundry.  I wouldn’t call that lazy, I would call that taking a break at the beginning of a new school year.

When I was a kid, my mother didn’t work outside the home.  I can’t say as I remember seeing her do the laundry, but it was always done. When I would go upstairs at night to go to bed, there would be piles of clean clothes on the steps, in  order of age, so mine were on the lowest step.  I do remember her hanging the sheets outside even when it meant they would go stiff with frost.  The reasoning was they smelled fresher, longer, and the electric bill liked it.  I’m short and if I were asked to bring the sheets in, I had to stretch to get the clothes pins off the line, and in the snow, invariably it went into the top of my boots.  We had a dachshund for a time, and she loved to bound between the foot holes, then bury her face in the white stuff and burst upwards shaking her head.

Oxford dictionary says lazy means inactive, unwilling to work or exert energy when capable, slothful, or in todays slang we would call that a “couch potato”.  Again, if a person works hard all week, then doesn’t trim the bushes on the weekend because they were feeling lazy; are they really lazy?  Not in my book.

I’ve been thinking all afternoon, and sharing thoughts at dinner too.  I can’t come up with a really good description of lazy.  One person we talked about doesn’t seem to be able to keep a job, yet, he’ll scrape, sand and paint the house every year. We decided he isn’t lazy, he just doesn’t like taking orders from others.  We talked about another person that uses dishes out of the dishwasher until it is empty.  The problem?  The dirty dishes are left to pile up on the counter, not even rinsed, until the dishwasher is once again empty so it can be filled.  I have witnessed this.  It stinks and looks horrendous.  So, is this person lazy, or do they have a form of some unnamed illness?  I hope it’s the latter, it would be easier to accept.

I guess the outcome of a days thinking, comes down to, if you are a mom and you do your best to raise your family, if you don’t feel like doing a chore on a certain day, it will be there to do tomorrow; unless you have an elf, friend, husband, even a kid, that will do it for you.   And, we didn’t even get to what retired moms might do with this day.  Take it off; it’s the day designated to do so.

 

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National No Rhyme (Nor Reason) Day

When I first saw the picture for this day I wondered why they used orange slices.  Duh!  Orange is one of those words that has no rhyme.  There are a few others, but for as many words as there are, very few.  I’ll list some of them: arugula, beige, blitzed, chaos, circle, circus, fiend, film, gulf, kiln, midst, month, music, pint, purple, rhythm, silver, siren, toilet, width, woman.

It seems we could make a really interesting sentence using a whole bunch of those words strung together.  Have fun trying.  I tried to think if maybe we used an Irish brogue or southern drawl we come up with some words that sounded like they rhymed.  I gave up, not having either a brogue or a drawl.

So let’s look at the (NOR REASON) part of this day.  I hope you don’t mind my going off on a tangent.  I am currently reading a book that has so many words I have never seen before, mostly verbs, that I am questioning the writer’s goal.  I read to be entertained, not to take a vocabulary class.  My husband and I looked up one of the words last night and couldn’t come close to understanding why the author thought it was the right word to use in the context of his sentence.  I was glad it wasn’t just me that didn’t get it!

I have had the occasion to enjoy meals with  doctors, lawyers, and professors.  I have had people from those same professions in my quilting classes, and I have never met anyone that uses the big words they know while in general conversation.  They talk like anyone else does when around the table with friends.  So, why do authors do that, and why do their agents and publishers think it is all right?  Maybe I should be more open minded and enjoy the opportunity to learn, but it takes me out of the rhythm of the story.

I have often been told I write like I talk and I’m proud of that.  As you can see from my blogs, no big words here, just down home memories.  Many years ago I can remember using; the car was purple and going as slow as maple syruple…. I wonder what the context of the conversation was.

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National Trail Mix Day

Have you gone shopping for trail mix lately?  In the super market I use, Wegmans, there are multiple kinds in the nut section, there are different kinds in the bulk food section and there are yet others in the health food section.  So, I leave the definition of trail mix to you.  I have read the first one made was just peanuts and raisins.

I like to take a bag of trail mix when we go on a car trip.  {It used to be motorcycle trip but the husband’s back gave out, and we have had too many close friends get hurt; I’m actually afraid to get on one now days.} The handy snack satisfies all sorts of cravings.  You can pick out just the chocolate when you need a sweet fix, and you can pick out all the cashews at one time, before anyone else gets to the bag.  The little pieces of dried fruit often give a more sour flavor burst if that is what you desire; and all jumbled together sends the taste buds into happy land, plus puts off the “I have to stop to eat!” demand for a while.  It’s a great staple for in the room too, no refrigeration or heating necessary.

Trail mix was “invented” for just that, eating on the trail when hiking.  I have been on some beautiful trails in my life.  Number one would be on Mt. Rainier in Washington state.  We parked in the Paradise parking lot and my friend pointed UP.  “You see that bench up there?” “Yeah.”  “That’s where we are eating lunch.” “Really?”  I didn’t have the exercise gene back then either, but I made it.  Trail mix was our dessert and the begging jay birds had some too.

Now I am back living in New York state, home territory.  There is a park named Harriet Hollister Spencer State Park that has wonderful views from the trails.  If you didn’t grow up around here, you’ll need a GPS to find it.  We also have Letchworth and Stony Brook state parks, plus many others.  I’m sure you have a great park near you.  Grab a bag of trail mix and go check one out.

One word of caution; dried fruit and chocolate can last almost indefinitely, not so with some types of nuts.  In an open bag in the cupboard they can go rancid.  So buy yourself some fresh trail mix and enjoy the Labor Day Weekend  (If you are in the U.S.)  while eating it, even if you do so in front of the TV, on the golf course, or around a fire pit.

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