Love song for an oven

Dear new oven,

new oven

I love you.  I know we’ve only known each other for a few short days, but I love you.  I can bake/roast/broil so much stuff inside you, and I don’t have to make the trek upstairs to the tiny microwave/convection oven every time I want to bake something.  I can do, like, an entire batch of cookies inside you at once without having to break them up into 6 separate shifts.

oven control panel

I love that your bottom rack pulls out with the door, lessening the chance of me burning myself reaching all up into you.  I keep forgetting and trying to push it back in before I close the door, but have patience with me – I’ll learn.

bottom rack pulls out

I love your sexy glass cooktop.  I love that you don’t have crumb-catching coils that are just begging to set spilled stuff ablaze.

sexy glass cooktop

I love that your inaugural dinner was my grandmother’s porcupine meat balls (not porcupine meat, but meatballs with rice inside).

porcupine meatballs

I don’t love that your only two shortcut buttons are “pizza” and “chicken nuggets,” but I’m willing to look past it.

pizza and chicken nugget shortcuts

I love that dozens of people out there can appreciate me taking pictures of you and plastering them on the interwebs.

me and my oven  

And I love that you don’t judge me for baking shitty pre-cut cookies inside you after my first homemade dinner.

ghost cookies cat cookies

Halloween cookies

Besides, I only did it to determine where your hot spots were.  Promise.