Right now, at this very moment, delivery guys are here to install our new oven. I’d like to end that sentence with an exclamation mark and perform a little jig, except I’ve realized over the past three weeks that it’s pretty impossible to get excited about an oven purchase. In fact, I’d like to posit that buying a new oven is about as much fun as buying a new air conditioner or car insurance or a new laptop because you stupidly spilled soup on your old one.

Which means it’s not very much fun at all.

Right now, Fitz and I are in the basement study while the very nice guys from Cumberland Appliance haul out our old oven upstairs in the kitchen. We are in the basement, which closes off thanks to a puppy gate, because Fitz was very keen to “help” with the removal and installation, happily following in every footstep the Cumberland Appliance guys took.

Luckily, Cumberland Appliance guys are very patient.

As I think of my old oven getting hauled off, I’m surprised by how little I feel. Arguably, that mean machine and I have been through a lot: daily dinner, small gatherings, big parties, birthdays, Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters. Hell, I learned how to cook with this sucker. And yet, try as I might to feel nostalgic, I’m getting nothing.

Thinking on it, I don’t think I’d feel the same with other appliances, no matter how reluctantly purchased. For example, a fridge. I can get behind a fridge. Because: compartments. You study them when they’re all clean and white and new and, in the exact same way you played house as a kid, you plan what you would put where, which results in feeling deep satisfaction. Also, there is the whole ice maker excitement.

A new microwave? Yes, I can muster up some joy over that purchase too. I mean, hi, new buttons. That’s always pleasurable. Also, you can marvel over how cheap microwaves are now.

Even a stove has its appeal. How much faster will it boil water than your last one? How much easier will it be to clean?

But an oven? It was a heat box before and it’s a heat box still. The saleslady told me as much when I asked if there were any bold new technological advancements. Really, the only change, if you pay a pretty penny, is your oven is now able to connect to WIFI, meaning you could theoretically turn on your oven on your way home from work so it is preheated upon arrival.

But, I mean, who cares? Are you really going to get techy enough to use that? I can’t even use Facebook properly. It took a gargantuan amount of effort to learn how to post on my blog. And, besides, should you even have your oven on when you’re not home?

However, Fitzi has now escaped the office and is standing at the top of the stairs begging to be part of this arrival. Sometimes he chirps like a bird, something he lets out this pathetic little moan that conveys his level of desperation. Trying to entice him back downstairs with his yellow platypus toy, I am reminded that perhaps a puppy’s point of view is not a bad way to look at life. Everything is an adventure and everything is a treat.

So maybe I need to change my attitude and get busy looking up recipes for how I am going to christen this new purchase, both for Gabrielle and William and for little Fitz. Actually, I know exactly what I’m going to do. Annie Chesnut posted this recipe a few weeks ago and I’ve been thinking about it ever since:

Homemade Dog Biscuits

1 cup coconut flour

½ cup smooth peanut butter

½ cup mashed blueberries

½ cup mashed bananas

4 eggs

½ cup warm water

Preheat oven to 350˚F. In a large bowl, combine all ingredients. Roll out dough and cut shapes. Bake for about 22 minutes in (your new) oven.