The first title to this post was,‘Ding-Dong the Stove is Dead.’ That might give you an idea about how I first felt about the stove. It may seem silly that I’m writing about our old stove that died. And is already gone. But really and truly they don’t make ’em like they used to.
Our old stove is estimated to be at least 35 years old – older than me, older than either of our vehicles, older than any of the animals, but not older than my dear husband ;). In fact, my husband, the DF, recalls his grandmother cooking away on it when he was a kid. She passed away in 1978. There certainly have been many a meal shared with family and friends made on that stove; many a baked good baked in that oven with love and maybe sometimes a little frustration; lots of stuff spilled on it, and to follow suit, plenty of wipe-downs.
The stove and I got off on the wrong foot, really. The first cake I baked for my DF’s birthday is a sore spot for me. It was nothing difficult at all – a box mix – just add eggs, oil and water and voila, a cake after spending some time in an oven. So I whipped it up, poured it in the cake pan and then placed it in the oven, came out to check 50 minutes later and goo. Dirty toothpick, not done. Checked five minutes later, still the same. Then another five, then ten, then ten, then ten and ten again and it was almost done, or so I thought. ‘This is crazy, it must be done it’s been in there nearly two hours!” (Famous last words.)
When we got back to the house after chores, after dinner (which DF ended up finishing himself as he unbeknownst to me wanted meat in the sauce for his birthday-dinner-of-choice spaghetti) we sat down for some candles, cake and ice cream. The cake had hardened enough at the top but once you stuck your fork in it, it was all goo beneath. Yuck! And I’ve been working to overcome that first spoiled birthday dinner ever since. Yes, I’m still working on it!
Though I may have felt sabatoged by the stove from time to time over the past three years, my relationship with her had evolved from a love-hate type to one of more respect, on my part anyway. We had our ups and downs but in the end, I was a little sad to see the old girl go. I wish I could tell you that I’m sure she’s in appliance heaven now, but then I know you’d think I’ve really lost it up here!