Friday, July 15, 2016
Thursday, June 30, 2016
2004 Verdoni Christmas Letter
‘Twas the Week before Christmas
With the Verdoni’s
By Shawn M. Verdoni
Back by popular
demand is the Verdoni Christmas Letter!
To all of you who asked, “Is everyone okay?” Let me assure you, we are as right as
rain. To those of you who wondered, “Why
didn’t they write one last year?” In this day and age where everyone is running
haggard with his or her own family activities, it is very difficult for many of
us to find the time to write a small note and mail it. I hope you understand that is how I felt this
past Christmas. Since we had already
sent a lengthy letter in the summer, I decided that I needed to cut the
Christmas letter out and use that time and energy toward other Christmas
projects I needed to take care of.
Besides, our lifestyle was running smoothly (no major humorous goofs) until the week before Christmas. Let us go back to that time . . .
The Potato and Onion Condo
One of our family
traditions in the Verdoni household is to make on gift for each family
member. The kids usually create
something at school so they get off the hook pretty easily. Rich still takes woodworking class at MATC
each semester and so he can carve out time for a project, and this year’s
project was a doozy! I, on the other
hand, do not have any extracurricular time that I have to create a family
masterpiece. I try to do so between the
hours of 9:00 and 10:00 pm during the week, when Rich is gone to work and the
kids are in bed sleeping.
Jonah made us a
bag of wonderful ornaments for the tree.
Each one had a little story to go with it and he was proud as punch to
share them with us. Erin created a
family tree book where she chronicled her life in photos and short stories in
which she must have written some of the words phonetically. Both gifts will be family treasures for years
to come.
Rich’s gift to the
family came early this month. I was
asked to pick up a pattern for a potato/onion holder, which I did. I was asked to pick out front panels (they
needed to have air flow) so I got to choose between a wire mesh panel and a pie
tin punch panel. I preferred the pie tin
punch panel that is very nice to look at.
I also was told to pick out the hardware, but I apparently didn’t pick
out the right ones. When I came home one
day, I noticed that a very heavy bag was on our kitchen counter. That bag held our new hardware, which included
brass hinges, and what looked like platinum and brass drawer pulls. I asked where my wooden drawer pulls were and
Rich replied, “I needed to pull together the contrast in colors and materials
from the brass hinges and the silver pie tin punch panels.”
Then I asked the
million-dollar question, “What did that all cost?”
Rich smiled,
patted me on the head and replied, “It isn’t the cost that matters, it is that
the project is done right!” That only
means one thing. I didn’t want to know
how much they cost.
A few days later,
I was asked to come down and see the unfinished project for another
opinion. “What do you think of a plate
rail on the top?” Rich asked.
I was puzzled,
“Why would I need a rail for the top? It
is just supposed to hold potatoes and onions.”
“Yes, but it can
do so much more if we put a failing on the top!” Rich’s eyes were now starting to
glimmer. I was getting nervous.
“No, I have
counter space for that.” Round 1 may
have gone to Rich, but I had just won Round 2.
However, the battle had just begun.
I began going up the stairs when . . .
“Where are you
going?” asked Rich.
“Back
upstairs. I thought we were
finished.” I replied, getting a bit
nervous.
“We aren’t
finished. I need you to decide on
molding,” he said with a smirk.
“Molding? This is just a container to hold potatoes and
onions. It doesn’t need molding.” I said.
“Any project
needing to be done should be done right.”
I was afraid, very afraid of what was next. I was not prepared for what was being shown
to me.
“Here it is with
molding. What do you think?”
“It looks fine
without it.”
“But does it look
better with it?”
“But it is to hold
potatoes and onions. They won’t know the
difference if they have molding on their home or not.”
“True, but does it
look better with molding or without?”
“I suppose it
looks nice to have that dark contrasting wood around the bottom of the oak top,
but it doesn’t need it. It is only
holding potatoes and onions.” I am
beginning to whimper now. I feel that my
winning streak is beginning to come to an end.
“Ha! I knew it!
It does look better with molding!
Thank you!” Said Rich the
Conqueror.
As I climbed up
the stairs with my head hung low in defeat, I quietly asked my final question,
“By the way, Rich, what kind of wood is the molding?”
“Mahogany, of
course!” And that is how the potato and
onion condo was born! If you are
interested in this prime piece of real estate, I can show you a fabulous room
with a view on the top level of this three-story masterpiece.
I should be proud
to own this beautiful piece of woodworking.
I absolutely am. In my wildest
dreams, I had never imagined owning a potato and onion condo worth (the last
time I checked on EBay) $500 per suite.
The Dyslexic Christmas Gift
As I promised
Rich, I would share with you my handmade Christmas gift for him. I was getting along fairly well this holiday
season. Most of the Christmas shopping
was done and so was the decorating. The
children are at an age where they enjoy helping and can actually do so without
shattering the glass ornaments before they hit the tree. We only had one incident where Jonah was
throwing the handmade ornaments onto the tree as if he was a pitcher in a
baseball game, but we stopped that pretty quickly. Still, I needed to decide on a Christmas gift
to make for each of my family members, and I was having a time of it trying to
figure out what I wanted to do. Then I
had my epiphany. I would make each of
them a shirt with a treasured family photo on it that I would create with our
computer and photos we’ve collected on CD and then I would use a t-shirt
iron-on to create each masterpiece.
It was 9:00 pm and
the kids were particularly squirrelly that night. Rich was running late to work and I was
getting very tired. Still, I needed to
get on with it and get these presents done.
Both Erin and Jonah enjoyed our family vacation to the Dells this
October, so I chose a photo where the whole family was on horseback.
What I didn’t
realize, is that the computer did not read many of our photo CDs yet and I
neglected to write on their envelopes what was on each CD. I began the tedious project of cataloging
each CD. Now my one-hour project has
turned into several. I need to note that
our computer is old and has a tendency to crash if too much graphic work is
being asked of it. So now I am reading
all the CD’s from January 2003 until present and every other CD is making my
computer crash so I need to re-boot every other time. I am truly in the Christmas spirit now.
When I finally got
to the point where I could create the t-shirt transfers, I was in a tragic
state of mind. My eyes were glassed over
and I believe I was mumbling to myself.
Still, I got Erin and Jonah’s shirts done and they looked nice. Now it was time for Rich’s gift.
I found a great
shot of the two kids sitting on the back of an ambulance at the Mukwonago Fire
Department’s Open House. I decided to
tap my creative energy a bit more and add verbiage to my creation. “Papa, You Light Our Fire!” Was chosen and added to the photo. I then added the transfer to the printer and
let it rip. I felt so elated that I had
completed the project and it was only 11:30 pm!
I still had 30 minutes to iron it on the shirt and wrap it!
I took my time and
followed all the directions on the package to make sure I made a quality
present for my love. Then came the
moment of truth. I began peeling off the
backing and pride filled my heart full and my eyes flooded with tears. Not even a corner ripped! The transfer took to the sweatshirt
beautifully and there were no mistakes.
But wait! Did my tear-stained
eyes deceive me? Could it be that I was
mistaken? In my haste, had I accidentally
forgotten one small, simple step? Did I
neglect to hit the button on the computer screen telling me to “Flip” the
graphic? I did. Rich’s shirt now reads,
“!eriF ruO thgiL ouY ,apaP”
Too tired to care,
I wrapped it any way. His real Christmas
gift from me was the present of “MY WIFE SCREWED UP AND I DIDN’T! HAH!”
2004 was a good
year for us and we are looking forward to some much earned family time in
2005. We wish you and your family a
blessed holiday and 2005!
Love,
Shawn, Rich, Erin, and Jonah.
2000 Verdoni Christmas Letter
Hello
Everyone!
Thought
you might enjoy hearing about our Christmas Vacation at the Verdoni House. Just keep this in mind, this has not been
altered to improve its story--this actually happened.
It all
started about a year ago when we had Christmas at my brother, Ken's home. Rich, after a few beers, invited everyone
over to our house for this Christmas.
Afterward, he has no recollection he ever said that. He will deny it to his grave.
For the
past two weeks or so, he has been determined to cook the turkey himself. A friend of ours owns a deep fryer for
turkeys and has had several occasions to enjoy cooking turkeys with it for her
family with huge success. Rich liked the
fact that he could cook a 20 lbs. bird in 60 minutes. I told him that the bird was his
responsibility and I would take care of everything else. Every day I had heard his stories about how
wonderful this would taste, how much peanut oil he will need to buy, how easy
this is going to be. He even watched a
video to see a pro at work. That's when
it all started...
"We
need to buy another bird,” Rich said to me 48 hours before Christmas Day. "What?
We have a 20 lbs. bird bleeding in the refrigerator?" I told him.
According to the video, the fryer could only handle up to an 18 lbs.
bird. Ours was too big and Rich felt we
needed to buy another bird--and more peanut oil. (Apparently, there is never
enough peanut oil). After a few phone
calls, we found out that someone cooked a 23 lbs. bird without a hitch. Problem solved.
Christmas
Eve Rich was called into work 3 times for a faulty alarm system. Mind you, he had barely slept 2 hours in 24
so he was pretty beat when he finally got to sleep around midnight and had to
get up again at 6 AM to let his crew out of the building.
Getting
ready in the morning went as usual, Jonah not wanting to wear what he picked
out the night before (Momma, I want to wear the fish t-shirt and green socks to
church!) and Rich not getting up until the last possible minute wondering what
I picked out for him to wear. However
humorous our morning was, it was to get better.
We got
home from church around 10 AM. My family
was expecting to eat at noon. Rich
thought they were coming at noon and started to feel the pressure. "Don't park the car in the garage, I'm
going to set up the fryer in there."
He told me. "Rich, you want
to put a propane tank with boiling oil into our garage which has a wood pile,
riding lawnmower, and a snow blower with a full tank of gas in it? Do you realize you could blow up our
house?" "No problem, it will
be safe." he assured me. "By
the way, I'm not sure we have enough peanut oil."
As I am
busy trying to clean the last two bathrooms and help the kids take the many
toys out of their boxes, Rich begins the process of starting to get the turkey
and the fryer ready. Apparently, to keep
the turkey moist, it needs to be injected with a marinade via a hypodermic
needle. Jonah was watching Papa
intently. "This needle is too
small. It is not getting any of the
seasonings into the bird,” says, Rich.
As I am helping Erin with her doll that needs 7 AAA batteries, I hear
screaming. "I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND!" I run to the kitchen to see what's the matter
and that's when I see my husband with brown grease all over his face, hair and
shirt. I helped him to the sink and
began helping him wash off the seasonings off his face. When he calmed down, I was able to see the
rest of the situation. We had brown
grease splattered on the ceiling, Jonah, the floor, all over the counter, the
patio doors and the far wall by the great room.
What had happened is that Rich was fed up with the hypo and decided to
take it apart to get the juices into the bird faster.
After
we cleaned that mess up, Rich thought it was time to get the oil heated. "Where are the long matches?" he
asked. We have been out of them for
several months now. "Why don't you
tell me when we are out of things so I can get them." At this point, I felt it was best to keep
quiet. Then he says to me, "This is
going to be dangerous." I found a
match holder, but he didn't want to use it, so I shut the door. It is best not to see your husband go up into
flames, only to call 911 afterwards.
As I
began the process of making the other 10 dishes for the feast that was to
happen in about 60 minutes, I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the
garage. I ran as fast as I could afraid
that my husband was doing his impression of baked Alaska, When I opened the
garage door, I saw Rich holding a large plastic container with something that
looked like lard in it--his eyes were glazed over. "ALL THE PEANUT OIL IS FROZEN!!!! I
CAN'T GET IT OUT OF THE CONTAINER!!!"
So I ran back into the kitchen and got a bread knife and told him to cut
the plastic jugs open and scoop out the peanut oil. Prior to putting the fryer in the garage, he
meant to put a tarp down on cement, but forgot.
When the time came to put the turkey in, oil was splattering all over
the place so he yelled at me again--this time to put rags over all the oil
(near the propane tank, near the open flame, in my garage with a wood pile,
lawn tractor, and snow blower.
"There is too much oil! I
need something to bail it out!" says my husband who had told me for two
weeks straight he needed more peanut oil.
I just shut the door. After Rich
got the turkey in, he had another beer and called his mom. "Mommy . . ." and then he proceeded
to tell her how difficult it is to cook a turkey. Like she has no clue. Apparently, she was laughing on the other
end.
At this
point, guests started to arrive. I was
flitting around the kitchen like a Japanese chef, slicing and dicing everything
I could find in my refrigerator to make sure these people had something to eat
until the turkey was done. 70 minutes
later, the side dishes were ready and Rich went to get the turkey out of the
fryer. When he brought it in to carve
it, it reminded me of those mummies I've seen on PBS. He placed it onto the carving board and began
to cut the legs away from the rest of the bird.
With a trembling voice and his eyes popping out of his head he says,
"Where's the meat? Shawn, does this
look right to you?????" I looked
down to see crispy strings of meat and skin--almost crystallized. He kept cutting and asking, "Where's the
meat?????" Then, my mother looks at
the situation and says softly, "Rich, dear, isn't the turkey upside
down? The meat's on the other
side." He looked up at her with
wide eyes and turned the bird over.
There was meat. As if praising
God, he says to my mom, "Thank You!" and began carving the turkey
that was supposed to be the easiest thing to cook on Christmas Day.
Does
the story end here???
NO.
At the
dinner table, Rich leans over to me and says, "Next time, we want to try
something new we should test it out before we have guests, don't you
think?" He has a college
diploma.
Does
the story end here???? Almost.
As I am
in the kitchen cleaning dishes and putting things away, Rich (having had 2
glasses of wine and a 6 pack of beer) decided it was time to bring out the
camcorder and take candid moments of me in the kitchen. I was telling him that I didn't want him near
me with the camera, when the phone rang.
Pam was on the line checking in to see how everything went. Grandma June also walked into the room and
heard me telling Rich I wanted him to just put the camera away. Then she makes this amazing revelation,
" JUST SHOW HIM YOUR BOOBIES!"
My eyes popped out of my head as Rich is trying not to drop the phone or
the camera. He had to leave the room to
keep his composure--I heard him laughing all the way up the stairs. My mom, trying to take control of the
situation, says to grandma, "Mom, you shouldn't say that." Then grandma proceeds to tell my mother and
me how "boobies" isn't a naughty word, and that it's okay to show
them even in the water . . .." Mom
said, "Mom, that's enough wine."
The
end.
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