stoves

My grandma bought a new stove. Her old stove worked just fine however, she thought it didn’t work because she tries to cook 8 things at a time at 350 for 30 minutes. When the food isn’t cooked in 30 minutes she freaks out. She doesn’t ever actually look at the recipe to see if it should be cooked at 350 or for how long. I mean, why would you do that? She also doesn’t understand that the more stuff you cram in there the longer it’s going to take to cook.

Anyway, she bought this new stove that looks like it part of the little helpers complete kitchen (see picture at the top of the post). Well, instead of having it delivered they cramed it into their car and called us up to help install it. While Rae and my grandpa were wheeling it inside my grandma was trying to give me her old stove. I asked her why I would want a stove that was exactly the same as mine except that (according to her) it didn’t work? I thought this was a brilliant question that she would have no answer to. Wrong. She told me she thought I would want her old stove because it was clean and she was sure mine wasn’t.

After she realised that I wasn’t going to take her stove she told my grandpa and Rae to put it in the basement because she wanted to use it down there. This doesn’t sound safe to me. It doesn’t matter though because my grandpa didn’t want to put it in the basement. He said it wouldn’t fit. My grandma told him to “may-zhure” it. To which he responded, perhaps my favorite response of all time, “MEASURE YOUR BUTT!!!”.  Ahh, it’s never a dull moment here in Caitlan Ct.