On the Roof

This post is inspired by the journal jar question: What were some of your (outdoor) chores growing up?

I first got to climb on the roof when I was about 12.  We had this wooden ladder that ended a foot below the roof, so the last step was a bit tricky, especially getting down.  I remember my mom standing on the ladder below me and guiding my foot to where I needed to step.  Later we got a nice metal ladder that reached to the top of the roof (as seen in the picture below).

In the winter, we had to shovel off the roof, and chisel the ice out of the gutters.  If we didn't, the snow right against the roof would melt, flow down the roof to the gutter, where there wasn't any room for it, and then would seep under the roof, damaging the ceiling.  (Yes, that was learned from experience.)

In the fall, we filled bags and bags with the leaves from the gutter.  In the spring, it was helicopters (maple seeds).  We had to reach down and pick up handfuls of soggy leaves or seeds (sometimes both), put them in the bag, then move over a few feet and continue.  It was interesting to see how many little trees had sprouted in the gutter.  And it was amazing to see how clogged the gutters got right around the drain pipes.  We had some mesh stoppers at the drain pipes to keep the leaves from going down, but the leaves gathered all around the stopper and kept the water from going down, either.  One summer the entire roof and gutters were covered with cicada carcasses.  (Of course, that shouldn't be too surprising, because the sidewalk was covered with them, too.)

Just a few years ago, I was at my parents' house and volunteered to clean out the gutters.  This time, I had a new toy.

I remember watching the neighbor's landscapers clean out their gutters with a leaf blower.  It's fun.  Although it's not as thorough as I used to think it was--I still had to scoop up a lot of the leaves by hand.

Farewell to an old friend

Some of you know that I eat pancakes for breakfast 5 days a week.  I don't like cold cereal, and pancakes are quick and easy.  For the past 6 years, I've been using this electric skillet to cook my pancakes.

It died on Friday the thirteenth.

This skillet was not mine originally.  I commandeered it from a roommate when she left on a mission.  (Yes, that's the word we used when I claimed it--Pirates of the Carribean was fairly recently out, and it was fun to quote Jack Sparrow.)  She hasn't missed it, since.

This skillet did a great job.  It heated up quickly, cooked evenly, and was cleaned easily.  Okay, you're probably thinking that it doesn't look all that clean, but burnt-on grease doesn't count.

And now, I can't find a skillet like this anymore!  For one thing, they're all non-stick.  Which means that my lovely Cutco spatula (found at a thrift store) just has to sit in the drawer.

[As an aside, after David and I let a friend give us the whole Cutco presentation/demonstration, David had a lot more respect for that spatula.]

Our new skillet doesn't cook quite as nicely, either.  But it's hard to pick one when any skillet has a number of negative reviews!  So this is a farewell to my old, trusty skillet.  It served me well.