The Sparks Are a Flyin'

No, this is not a post about our relationship. (But rest assured the sparks are fine there too.) Perhaps you noticed that in the previous post I mentioned that Jason was trying to fix the stove. (The operative word there is trying.)

You see, about a month ago I pressed the 'bake' button on our oven and the entire electrical display screen fell into the inside of the stove. Jason finally got around to fixing it on Sunday. He examined the issue and found that it was attached by some plastic brackets. Jason concluded that the heat must have weakened the plastic brackets and caused them to break. "How dumb of the designer to use plastic!" he commented.

He decided to create his own new system to hold the display on. He got some metal strapping, shaped it into forms he needed and had it attached lickety split. Good as new.

Later, I had made a scrumptious new fish chowder recipe and decided I needed some toasted bread to accompany it. I sliced up a yummy wheat loaf and laid the pieces out on a cookie sheet with plans to bake them. I pressed a few buttons and popped the oven onto 375.

Loud screaming. Lots and lots of loud, blood curdling screaching soon followed as the angry oven display spit sparks out at me. "AHHHHH. Jason! JASON! THERE'S SPARKS FLYING OUT OF THE OVEN! WHAT DO I DO!? JASON! I'M AFRAID TO TOUCH IT, I CAN'T TURN IT OFF WHAT DO I DO!? AHHHHH!" That's pretty much how it went.

Jason came tearing down the hall and bravely (okay, kind of girly, hesitantly as if he was unsure if he was going to be electrocuted or not) turned the oven off.

The sparks stopped and I stated the obvious, "Maybe there was a reason the designer used plastic."