don't fool with a gemini . . .

there comes a time in the life of all appliances when they deserve their finally resting spot.  some appliances just give up the ghost in one big sigh of relief, leaving you stranded with wet soapy clothes or no hot water mid-shower or a freezer drawer full of no longer frozen ice cream, meat or packaged shrimp.  sometimes however, the trek to the junk pile is much slower and more convoluted.  enter the saga of my Maytag Gemini.

for years, its right front burner had been temperamental.  either the outside ring worked or maybe the inside one worked.  sometimes they both came on, sometimes neither.  he was big on whimsy.  another burner worked on everything except high . . . that of course would be the burner i use to bring pasta to a boil and you know how big on pasta we are around here.

so earlier in december, i went stove shopping and found a lovely little KitchenAid dual oven.  so shiny and black.  but after my now decrepit gemini had been loaded onto the truck for its last ride to appliance heaven, and the new oven installed, i realized we had a problem.  the new stove looked nothing like the black beauty on-line, in fact, it looked suspiciously like a stainless steel steamroller.  mislabeled at the factory, it was hauled back onto the truck while my now not so complacent gemini, having looked forward to greener pastures and a possible future with an equally rusted but still pretty  vacuum, was roughly jerked out of his dreams and forced back into servitude.  it was not pretty.

he was not happy.  oh he let me make soup for dinner and scrambled eggs for breakfast but it was all a ruse to lure me deeper into his trap before truly venting his anger.  i should have noticed the fastidious grin as i shoved chicken lickin' . . . basking in an array of taters, onions and carrots . . . into the bottom oven last night.  i should have listened to the wanton song of his people as the heat rose, but i had been lulled deeply into the assumption that he was content to serve a few more days.

that he was not was extremely evident when i opened his door to check on the bird.  chicken lickin' was in total disarray.  one leg was burnt to a crisp and her skin was charred black yet her bottom, still wrinkled in lily white chicken bumps, was stone cold.  disaster said i.  revenge yelled gemini.

i covered chicken lickin' in tin foil, lowered the temperature and nursed her up to 185º degrees.

tonight, the crockpot is happily simmering a corned beef brisket and i am fervently hoping to receive a call that my new stove is on its way. hopefully it will not be as fickle.