Turkey transfer averted

When I signed off last night, I was still unsure if my oven would open today.

Things looked dire this morning when Joe told me that after he came in last night, he yanked on the handle a couple of times and it fell off. And the oven still refused to open. I couldn't be angry with him because I had pulled on the handle myself, only not as hard.

This morning I talked to Deb about bringing the turkey there. I had it all ready to go, and she was preheating her oven, when Jim came by to perform a last-ditch investigation.

He fiddled with this and that and still, it looked like the oven would not succumb.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Joe asked.

Jim wasn't ready to give up, and suddenly, a Thanksgiving miracle happened. The door opened! We all high-fived, and we called the turkey transfer off. Jim said it had something to do with the lock being slightly out of position. Whew.

It was kind of hard to open with the handle missing, but two small end pieces remained to pull on. The fate of the oven, and of the attached broken microwave, is a problem for another day.

I puttered around doing a few things such as fixing the flower arrangements, getting down the serving dishes and getting out my mother's silver serving pieces, with some jobs remaining such as ironing the tablecloth so that Katie could set the table.

I took my time eating a bagel and reading the paper.

Maddie needed to be walked, so I took her out in the early afternoon, not checking the time. We went around the lake twice, talking to people along the way. When I got back home, Ben was at the door. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked. "They're coming in half an hour!"

What? I actually did not have any idea what time it was. I thought it was 2:30, but it was an hour later.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm a moron."

"Do you expect us to disagree with you?" someone asked.

"No, but I figure if I criticize myself first, then nobody else will be able to," I said.

"Actually," Jim said to Joe, "I think she really didn't know what time it was."

If we were married, this situation might have led to a fight. Sometimes being divorced and friendly is so much easier.

Anyway, the kids and Jim finished up while I changed. Deb, Charlotte and their black lab, Mary Margaret, arrived just a couple of minutes before I came down.

The turkey was delicious, as was everything else. We were all in good spirits.

We gave thanks for health, family, friends and of course good food and a warm, safe place to live. Ben gave the "Al Gordon" speech in honor of my father, who loved to say that despite our country's flaws, it is still the best country in the world.

If the oven were a person, it should have given thanks that we did not beat it to pieces before it finally gave in.

Saturday funnies

Things fall apart, sometimes all at once, sometimes randomly.

The door to our microwave broke. Craig, the cheerful appliance repairman, rigged it up so that it works, but you have to use two hands to open the broken latch. I can’t replace the microwave only, because it is in the same unit as the oven. It would be difficult, and costly, to replace the whole unit, so we make do. I did manage to grow up without a microwave, but at this point it seems like a must-have. I use it a lot…to reheat my coffee.

I call Craig so often that he finally gave me his cell phone number so he’d be easier to track down. He seems to get a kick out of appliances. He understands them, forgiving their finnicky behavior. When he is done fixing something, he says, “She’s good to go. She shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”

More than once, he’s dealt with my stove. The electric ignitors on the burners need to be filed occasionally, and if you don’t get it just right, one or another burner won’t go on and it will click like crazy when the others are lit. I yell at it. I pound the stove. I try my nail file on it. Finally I call Craig. He cleans them up and they’re good to go. Finally it occurred to me to ask him to leave me a piece of his magic sandpaper.

Our kitchen cabinets (yes, I know, these are not appliances) have, over the years, fallen apart one at a time with no provocation. Turns out that when we redid the kitchen 16 years ago, they used a bad batch of glue. The kitchen supply people sent a carpenter to try to figure out which ones to re-glue, without much success. At least when I call to report another broken door, they fix it free of charge.

But back to appliances. The other day my dishwasher broke, and Craig came to fix it. As he was about to leave, I remembered something. Sometimes, odd horseshoe-shaped pieces of thin wire turn up in my washing machine. I’ve been saving them to show him, figuring that they signal my washing machine’s slow deterioration. But also figuring that “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” I have forgotten to ask him about it.

“Oh,” Craig said, with a grin.

Then I thought I heard him say, “Those are brunderwires.”

Huh? Was that some esoteric appliance part?

“Bra underwires,” he said. “I see it all the time. One customer really wrecked her washing machine with them.”

Ohhhhhhhh. What do you know about that?

Sometimes you just have to laugh.