15 March 2007

Whining. The other, other, other white meat.

I want a self-cleaning house. A self-cleaning van would also be nice. Just roll the windows up, and press your keyring bee-booper for autowash. It fills with water, an agitator comes out of the floor and you have all the upholstery washed in 5 minutes. Power blower after the rise cycle and heated dry. I think I could market that. Until then, my driveway is subjected failing debris every time my kids climb out. I try to keep it clean, but climbing around the seats for garbage and the last green granola bar looks more like an audition for Cirque du Soleil.

I'd also like a self-cleaning oven since my antique and decrepit excuse for an oven is older than the hills. I think it once baked bricks for the Pyramids and the self-cleaning mechanics have long kicked the bucket. I'm telling you, it's old and worn out. Nonetheless, I still use it often, remember to turn my casseroles, muffins and cakes and setting the dial at 50 degrees less than recommended. I told you it was old. It's brand name is Gibson, like the guitar people. They must make stoves and then sit around and sing songs about them. It's the American way.

Someone is at it again, taking photos of her oven, and I am just a slave to her photographic whimsy. Perhaps she wants to show off her beautiful clean one and rub it in my face. Who knows, but I didn't make Martha Stewart Mom of the Year by keeping a clean oven (haha! Undoubtedly, Martha cleans her own, I am sure.)

I use my archaic kitchen appliance often. I need a warm weather day to deal with the stench of auto-cleaning, or in my case, the oven cleaner spray and smell of an electrical fire. Saturday promises 70 degree weather, so this bad boy will be a different shade of rust by Sunday. For now, I cave YET AGAIN, to the passing fancy of one curious Badoozer.


I like how you can still see the charred remains of a noodle from my Baked Ziti the other night. Martha would be so proud. The picture makes it look rusty in there. It's just grime, I promise.

Before cleaning: clean up excess spillage.

Isn't that cleaning my stove before I clean my stove? Personally, I'd rather buy this gorgeous thing but thieves go to jail and I don't have a fast enough getaway car...I also don't have gas hook up. I wonder if Wolf makes them electric.

Speaking of the finer things in life, it's a relief when hubby finally has full time work after 3 months of job hunting. Let's just say, my worries are valid and it could be worse but not much. Perhaps HGTV will be awarding me in their contest for a brand new dream home. I wouldn't mind moving to Colorado again. Not one bit. I bet you that house has a nice oven.

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"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe