Proving That There's Only A Couple Of Degrees Of Separation Between Ladder Injuries and Functioning Ovens

As I sat, pulling runny cheese and charred crust away from the doughy innards of a slice of pizza, I wondered how it had come to this.

And then I remembered.  Getting the oven fixed had been Cody's job.

You see, our oven has been broken since Mother's Day, at least.  The reason I remember the date is because this year our Mother's Day celebration was to be held at our home, where I would be doing all the cooking.  And as some of you who know me personally can attest to, when I take on a challenge, I TOTALLY TAKE IT ON.  So I was doing some Serious Cooking Plans, including lots of Research and also lots of Explaining To Cody How THIS Time It Wouldn't Turn Into A Disaster, Really, I Promise.  He kept referencing the great Strawberry Fish Cake of '06 spectacle and seriously?  That was so LAST YEAR.  Whatev.  Baking soda, baking powder, don't mix them up, that's all I'm going to say.  Moving on.

I was planning a little Mother's Day Mexican Fiesta.  Enchiladas (made from scratch), chips and salsa and guacamole, lots of rice and baked, marinated veggies, and a really awesome dessert that I am not even going to describe because of its awesomeness and maybe someday (if I ever have an oven again) I can make it and I don't want anyone on here to tell me how EASY it is or that it's not that great, because then my hopes will be destroyed.  Ok!

I don't remember what sort of stroke of luck alerted me, two nights before Mother's Day, that my oven was broken.  Perhaps I was attempting to make cookies, but I doubt it because that would imply non-laziness, and that doesn't seem to fit.  At the very least, I must have walked by and randomly hit the ON button, and that is when I found out that my oven had no intentions of cooperating.  Rather, my oven decided that instead of working NORMALLY, it would work sporadically in little, heated bursts.  Hot flashes, if you will.  I apparently own a menopausal oven. 

Well obviously these desultory hormonal moments were not going to do the trick in cooking ANYTHING, much less my super special dessert of awesomeness.  Or my enchiladas.  Or the baked veggies.  So I had to come up with a totally different plan, one that did not involve ovens or baking of any kind.  It was kind of funny, because I totally overthink these sorts of things in my attempts to make everything Perfect In Every Way, and so having to change my plan one day before the dinner was ironic.  Also, because I can't properly cook anything to save my life, my grand recipe aspirations are always a source of humor for my husband.

Anyway, Mother's Day ended up fine (long live the Strawberry Tortini - possibly the easiest and yet tastiest dessert ever) and I moved on with my life.  My life that involves very small amounts of cooking and/or baking.  However, the moment did arise, only a few weeks later, where a batch of cookies or a cake was needed for an event.  I tried the oven, but all it had to say to me was F7.  Well, F7 and a lot of unnecessarily loud beeping.  I'm not sure what the problem was.  Cody and I had both recognized that the oven was broken and then we had non-verbally agreed to studiously ignore the problem and then act really surprised when our next attempts to use the oven were not met with unmitigated success.  So it was weird then, when we tried to bake and it was still totally broken. 

That's when we decided that it would be Cody's job to get the oven fixed.  There had been some talk of Cody getting the oven fixed after the Mother's Day thing, but then our Ignore It plan, coupled with the fact that the oven-repair-person he knew fell off a ladder and broke several vital oven-fixing bones kind of took over.  And when it broke the second time...well, no; that's not exactly true.  The oven didn't break again so much as it remained broken.  So when the oven remained broken, we decided that it probably did need to be addressed, rather than ignored.  However!  Oven-repair-person was still in traction from his accident.  And while there are probably many more oven-repair-people in this city, we chose to ignore all of them!  And focus on the one oven-repair-person we couldn't have, no matter what!  I don't know why!  It sounds really dumb to me, too!

The oven remains broken.

Nowadays, I am experiencing something akin to the phantom itches and pains described by amputee patients.  I'll be at the grocery store and see a particularly delectable item such as baked sweet potato fries (really good, trust me, I HATE sweet potatoes, but these fries are divine) and think "ooh! I totally need these fries; I'll make them for a side dish!"  And then I buy them.  Along with chicken fingers, several frozen pizzas, and all the ingredients for some cookies I heard were really good.  I bring it all home, nearly salivating at the thought of all the yummy baked goodness I'll soon be enjoying, put everything away in the freezer, and forget about it until dinnertime, when I inevitably reach for a pizza, go to turn on the oven, and am faced yet again with the dreaded F7.

I can't understand why I keep doing this.  I mean, Mother's Day, seriously, isn't that in May?  This can't be explained by the whole electricity-is-out-but-you-keep-hitting-the-light-switches concept.  That's explainable.  Unless of course your electricity has been out since May, and you continue to hit the light switches.  In which case, really, you've got bigger problems than your chronic light-switch-hitting, because how are you watching Top Chef?  Or flat-ironing your hair?

At any rate, the above scenario is exactly what led to the pizza disaster of aught seven, where my despair and despondency at not having access to ANY frozen pizza led Cody to attempt to grill the pizza, outside, in the rain.

Which does not work.  In case you ever wondered.

Comments

[Dory]

Girl, you crack my sh*t up!

Plus (BONUS PLAN!) totally teach me stuff (I had to go to dictionary.com to look up desultory).

Dory

[Deb]

too funny! I similarly torched a pan holding a gorgeous casserole I didn't want to lose when a hurricane knocked out power for days--but I was coping with a real disaster, so that's my excuse.

[alyndabear]

Okay, the fact that you can't just COOK THE DAMN PIZZA that you want is making me hormonal. Make Cody fix it. Please?

[Chiada]

Heh, grilled pizza. I never would have thought of that.

We used to have an oven that was dysfunctional yet functional. It worked, but when you turned it on to preheat it, it would take a few minutes to actually ignite. All the while, the gas was building up, and then suddenly, five minutes later, we'd hear a loud BOOM! and the oven door would pop open and bang shut. Scared the crap out of me several times.

Then we moved. And the oven remained behind since it was a rental.

Sorry about your oven! Hope you get a new one soon or this one gets fixed.

[Chaos Control]

F7 on an oven ... I guess computers have taken them over as well?

[Rita]

F7 the oven an get a tiny toaster oven that can bake cookies and pizza. The big oven might then get embarrassed and humilated that a toaster oven can out perform it and maybe it will stop F7ing.

[Helen]

~You are so funny! Our washing machine is sort of broken, needs lots of wiggling and resetting and then it kind of works. while we have been in this house we have used the landlady's Washing machine. I am completely sure that having had a lovely 8 week rest our own machine will be completely well and working perfectly again next week, when we move again.

[Cassie]

OMG, this was so hilarious! I'm just jealous that you HAVE an oven right now, although I am sorry that it's not working. And I really want to hear more about the strawberry fish cake, ASAP.

[wordgirl]

In our house it's a tossup as to which needs replacing most: the oven with the wonky door that takes forever to pre-heat or the fridge that is a hand-me-down from my parents. It works...but the seal needs to be replaced and the light inside is out permanently. Then there's the matter of my car...

[Katy]

OMG I take it Tyler, Texas doesn't have a Pizza Hut? Or is your phone broken, too?

This story is hilarious.