|Cupcakes by Bella Cupcake Couture|
As much as I am a skeptical agnostic with both feet firmly grounded in reality—and as much as I have never been, in all my life, the slightest bit superstitious—I have to admit that my wishes seem to be manifesting themselves lately.
A small example—at work, I sometimes get to thinking. Sometimes, I get to thinking about doughnuts. Sometimes, cakes. But regardless, when I get to thinking that I simply MUST have something sweet—I simply must, or else I'll die—then NO MATTER WHAT, and EVERY TIME, something sweet shows up. I get to wanting a doughnut, and five minutes later someone drops in with two dozen. I get to imagining a cake, a cake with lots of frosting, and out I go to the kitchen fifteen minutes later to find 40 delicious oversized cupcakes. It's a funny sort of magic, this magical ability to predict desserts, because sometimes I even predict desserts that I don't particularly relish on an ordinary day. Most times, frosting really isn't my thing.
A week ago, I got to thinking that I really had to have a new stove. I got to thinking that our dirty, dingy, broken down old electric stove with its missing oven rack and its three-out-of-four dead burners really did not jive with my Culinary Artist/Mistress of the Homestead vibe. I got to thinking that what I really wanted, and what I'd even be willing to pay out the nose for, was a dual-fuel range (gas burners, electric oven). A gas range with a convection oven would be even better. And knobs, I thought. Knobs, not buttons. Black and silver. Very pretty.
So there you have it, my wish. My mental image. The problem being, however, that such things cost money, and money is not something of which we have a terrible overabundance. I was imagining an $1800 stove, and I wasn't entirely sure what to do about that. "I'd rather have a new range," I told my husband, "than a mule carriage." This, coming from me, is a VERY strong statement.
Three days ago, my husband (he works in construction) was off recycling some old appliances for a client. At the recyclers', who also happen to retail new and gently used appliances, my husband saw it. A dual-fuel gas range with a convection oven—with knobs, not buttons. Black and silver. It was in perfect aesthetic and functional condition, with all parts, accessories, and original documents in place, and guaranteed for 90 days. They told him it was the first used range of its type that they'd had in four years of business, and we bought it on the spot.
We paid $290 for it, and I'd gladly have paid a thousand.