Just for Kate

this is what we're using now. It's twenty three years old and starting to warp a bit, and frankly Ive never been totally pleased with it. It was never mentioned that all the measurements are metric, and the oven was just that much smaller than most of my cookie sheets and even turkey roaster, they all had to be pared down to fit. Very annoying.

The design is very similar, but smaller than the new one, and i wont be getting white doors, just basic black. Im impressed, too, Kate. *g*

Getting it in and set up will be the fun part, it weighs over 500 pounds--god bless engine hoists and rollers. I just don't want to take a door frame off the hard way when we're rolling it down the ramp and into the doorway...yikes...

margin gem stove

It was time, and this is the one that to me says 'cook stove'.
Shelf instead of warming oven, no water reservoir, no fancy
bits. Just a fire box, an oven, and moi. Six weeks, give or take.
This is more exciting than a new refrigerator, *g*

It gets scary sometimes

Most of the time when I come to a red light and stop, it changes, and I am off and rolling. This time I was mentally drifting a bit and missed the change--after a few seconds the truck behind me tapped his horn, and I started to move forward. Just as I did, a car ran the red light on the cross traffic.

It didnt seem like much but then I realized that if I had been quick off the mark he could very well have got me broadside. I would have been about where he was at the same time since my left hand view was blocked by an SUV, and I had no way of knowing there was a car running the light.

Maybe from now on i will instigate the three second green light rule and if the hotshot behind me is that impatient he can pound sand.

Out to the shed and back

It's never a simple trip, there's usually something to carry out or carry back (or both), and even tonight when my only mission was to throw a plastic tub over the mower in case of rain, and pull the little shed doors shut, I had to stand on the porch steps first getting used to the early evening not-quite-dark, admiring the peepers and little frogs singing joyously (well I have to assume so, it is May, after all) in the run at the bottom of the field.

And the the appreciation of stepping out onto the lawn in bare feet and no jacket, after a winter of traveling outside swathed in the coat, the hat, the gloves, the boots, only to roll up a car window. But now the winter coats are inside, and I am not. I feel twelve years old again, marching bravely and barefooted across the night lawn with the cat padding loudly beside me.

on the way back I heard a barky noise, one Ive heard before this year, sort of a sneezy single bark but apparently high off the ground. Finally looked it up on google and by a process of elimination and incredible intuitive leaping, realized I was hearing a grey fox. They do climb trees, and if startled, the site said, will warn you with a hoarse bark that sounds like a cough.

Good for him, good for me. Happy May 1st.