“A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.”
We recently purchased a new stove and fridge. We received our former fridge free as a sympathy gift from someone who was going to throw it out anyway. It was small, is about the kindest thing I can say about that particular appliance.
Our stove was the smallest gas range made and my go-to excuse why meals did not turn out as pictured in the cookbooks I perused. Neither of the appliances ever made it to my gratitude list.
And so we decided to have the carpeting removed from three rooms of our home, throw in the kitchen’s pine floor as a bonus, and have all the original wood floors in our downstairs refinished. That would be four rooms. Nice segue, don’t you think? Well, yes, this will all make sense after I have my 4th cup of coffee and edit this entry.
As we were preparing the downstairs for the floor guys, my pet name for these wood geniuses, my husband suggested that we put the stove and fridge on the side porch and never bring them back into the house. I thought this might make cooking a bit more difficult and was about to ask if he was also going to put a car up on blocks in the front yard when he added, “We’ll get new ones.”
Oh, happy day. My husband and I would get to go shopping together, which generally leads us to wonder what we ever saw in each other. OK. I’m exaggerating. My husband is smart, kind, and generous. We just happen to have a different opinion on style. But alas, I’ll have to admit that my husband’s sense of what would constitute amazing appliances was well, amazing.
Then there was the issue of the old appliances. Fortunately, we purchased the new appliances from a place that would happily haul the old stuff away, refurbish it, and foist it on some other unsuspecting person. That’s my guess. But I did have to ask my sweetie. “Do you think I should clean the oven before they pick up the stove?” He replied with a question of his own. “What’s the chance of that happening?” He knows me. I had to admit that the chance was slim and none.
And so the stove went on to a new life with a crust of salt on the oven floor that stopped the flames after a spill that happened about three years ago. Cleaning the oven was never high on my to-do list.
About the floors, as I segue into another brain blip. They are 116-years-old, had turned black and rotted in some places, and are oak around the outside of the room. The floor guys performed their magic and I now have floors that are so beautiful I can hardly sleep for my joy and excitement. These floors do make it to my gratitude list.
The nice floor guy also told us that the door and window trim in our downstairs is black walnut. This is the house that the local fire department was going to use for practice because it was dated, worn, and had lost some of it’s shine. Think about that next time you look into the mirror and start criticizing your own sweet self.
Did you notice that this post didn’t have a recipe? I had some Chinese take out last night. It was wonderful!
Loveya – The Grandma
Artist, African hand drum student, yoga neophyte, and Grandmother of 22 or so grandchildren. I enjoy cooking and writing. I value good friends and quiet times for reading.