I hate my oven.

It goes without saying that this is the country of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" and my stove certainly enters into that idea. Most people drive things into ground here, or at least if they don't want them anymore, they don't end up at a goodwill somewhere to waste away as junk, but rather are happily taken by someone who has nothing or very little and is happy to get whatever you are giving out. Most technology is so expensive here that using something until it's useless is the only option.

Case in point, my stove. I think it's older than me. It most certainly is the same one my husband grew up with, now covered with rust, lit with matches, with the wire frame that supports our cooking pots threatening to break through the rust spots at any moment and spill soup everywhere. The oven only has two settings; 1 and 2. No one is sure what the temperature of either of them is, not that it matters since the door doesn't shut all the way. I tie it up with string to a large peg to try to keep the gap down to a couple of centimeters instead of a gaping five or more waiting for Ju's wandering hand to find it. And while were at it, lets not forget to mention that everything burns in the front and is underdone in the back if you don't rotate your food every half and hour or so because the flame only burns in the front.

Last night, I attempted to make pumpkin chocolate cookies, which according to the recipe should only take 15-20 minutes to cook. After over an hour in the oven, I finally managed to get 6 cookies reasonably cooked enough to remove them from the pan. I gave up after midnight, when I managed to burn one side of the tray and get the tinfoil stuck in the cookie trying to get it off.

I have never attempted to bake alone before - I always had some support; my mom, then Teddi in college, then Lisa in gradschool, and then Sheila in Brasil for a while. I'd like to say that I did okay for my first time out on my own in the great world of baking, but the oven kind of ruined the experience for me.

Maybe I'll write Santa for a new stove.