A True Inheritance

     I come from a weird bunch, with an even weirder sense of humor.  My husband will eagerly attest to this fact, so know up front, it's not his side of the family.

     I'm not sure where our weirdness originated from but it must have come mostly from Mother.  She always did weird things.  Like the time she chased the car down the alley after it had jumped out of gear.  Just as she got to it, she fell in the gravel.  Just before it ran over her, it turned to the right and careened into the neighbors' garage.  Dad asked her what she thought she was going to do with it once she caught it.  Another time I watched her chuck an entire turkey carcass out the kitchen window after Thanksgiving dinner. She figured the cats would find it one way or another.  So yeah, it must come from her.

     Another thing she was famous for was never having a kitchen utensil that didn't have a burnt or partially melted handle on it.  We would all make fun of the gnarly spatulas and spoons and tell her she should get some new ones, but I believe she took much pleasure at our disgust because she never replaced them, ever.

     Several years ago,  I had some weird idea come over me that I needed to clean under the stove.  As I was raking out small toys, a fork and a lot of dust a true treasure emerged.  It was a plastic lid that had gone missing for quite awhile.  It was dirty with said dust but the best part was, it was melted.  I stopped all cleaning and washed the lid, happy that some of the dust was permanently embedded into the plastic.  I put it into a large envelope along with a certificate of authenticity and mailed it to my oldest sister.  I dubbed it the Lucky Duck Lois Award and she still has it.

     After Mother passed and we were going through some of her things, I found her kitchen timer.  It was one of those inexpensive plastic ones that was self winding.  As I turned it over in my hand, I realized I had stumbled onto yet another of her 'never get rid of anything' jewels.  The timer was yellow, but the backside was so melted it had curved inside itself and the edges were now a lovely burnt orange color.  The following Christmas I gift wrapped the timer and gave it to my oldest niece.  She recently moved and sent me a picture of the timer sitting happily in her new home.

     I would like to say that my own cooking utensils are free from any blemish, but alas, that would not be the truth.  I recently melted the handle of my favorite spatula by turning on the wrong burner.  I dislike electric stoves, at least if I'd had a flame I could have saved the spatula a little sooner, but no, now it has it's own gnarly handle. I shall keep it forever.  Plus my plastic spaghetti server looks like a spider on drugs and my kids get a lot of entertainment from it. That's OK, their time is coming.