Okay, I admit it, I have stove envy. My brother and his wife have this beautiful 1960ish electric range that is the coolest thing since sliced bread. I wanted to buy it from them, but nooo, they wouldn’t sell. What’s the deal here I’m his favorite sister AND his only one. What’s up with that? I got over it (not really).
I did ask if he ever saw one to let me know. That was four years ago. I got the phone call a week ago. He found one at a garage sale and, get this, it’s even nicer that his is. Winner, winner, chicken dinner! He got this baby for $30.00 and everything works on it.
The only problem was that it was in Muscoda, WI. So, Hubby called the brother-in-law, with the pick up truck, to see if he would be willing to drive to Muscoda to get it. No problem. Off the two of them went.
Everything was going perfectly until, while carrying the ‘monster’ (hubby’s word) into the house there was an ‘oops’. Hubby, brother-in-law and stove got banged up. Wounds were bandaged, ice applied and sympathy dispensed. The range/stove got a couple of dings in the front…nothing that can’t be touched up with a little enamel paint.
It has all the bells and whistles. It is forty inches wide. It has one normal size oven and a smaller separate oven right beside it. The larger oven has a meat thermometer and a rotisserie attachment. There is a larger then normal work space on top next to the burners. And a nice long florescent light that gives light to it all. I had so much fun pushing buttons, turning dials, setting the timer… I’m telling you it’s the Cadillac of electric ranges.
Then Hubby asked me what was for supper. I wanted to say ‘Really, are you kidding me? This is a work of art you don’t actually cook on it’, but after catching a glimpse of his bandage I thought better of it. Guess I’ll have to get the cookbooks out…I don’t dare ask hubby to return it.