My parents were planning my older sister’s first birthday. Josh was the age of my current resident inutero. Thompson and Midnight Midnightevna were hardly a flicker in their great-great-great-great-great grandmother’s eye.
But our old oven? According to the little sticker on the back, it was being pushed off the assembly line and packed up to begin its long, long life of burning cookies and lop-sided omelettes.
It has gone off to retirement somewhere. In its place sits a “Hotpoint” brand oven – something I’ve only seen in crappy apartments. But it made our homemade veggie burger and french fry dinner just fine.