Home Guru

By Bill Primavera When my wife Margaret and I were in the market for a new home (specifically, a condo with maintenance and services included), we focused in on Trump Park in Shrub Oak, which featured all the qualities and

By Bill Primavera The concept of a mudroom never occurred to me when I was a New York City boy, where I didn’t have to worry about tracking mud into my apartment. By the time I had trekked through the

By Bill Primavera As I watch my wife neatly fold the laundry she’s just removed from the dryer, I recall fondly a memory from long ago. She denies the story now, or claims she doesn’t remember it, but when we

By Bill Primavera It’s time to think about resolutions the homeowner may consider for home improvements in the new year. So here goes, but first, a disclaimer. The Home Guru can’t be guru-ish about everything under the roof and above

By Bill Primavera Considering how content I am today as a family- and home-centered person, it’s almost difficult for me to remember my first holiday season in New York City. As a new college graduate, it would be the place

By Bill Primavera Of all the holiday seasons my wife Margaret and I enjoyed together, one of the most memorable was the year a decade ago when we moved to our current home in Trump Park in Shrub Oak. Christmas

By Bill Primavera My wife Margaret is a compulsive list maker. That may sound like something bad, but actually, I envy her ability – not to mention her desire – to make lists of things to do. By comparison, I’m

By Bill Primavera As Christmas draws near, it will soon be time to start thinking about our front door wreath. For some years, we never had to worry about sourcing our wreaths because our grandson Richie, as a dutiful Boy

By Bill Primavera Is anyone here old enough to remember the song “Artificial Flowers” by Bobby Darin? It was probably the most miserable song ever recorded, about a little orphan girl who survived by making artificial flowers from silk, wire

By Bill Primavera It is impossible for me to dull the memory of that nightmarish middle-of-the-night experience when my wife Margaret awakened me and told me that she had had a dream that a man was in our bedroom, looking