R.I.P. 1995-2008

Today marked the end of an era. The microwave that has been part of the Peitricia Mae household since its beginning has, much to its owners' sadness, shuffled off this mortal coil.

Ah, our microwave. We have literally had it since we set up house almost fourteen years ago. It was, in fact, a wedding present, one that was all the more meaningful given the pecuniary position of the friends who pooled together their meagre student-life resources to purchase it.

It has had a remarkable career. It started off on Dalhousie Drive heating up nachos and feeding two hungry students in between exams. A move over to Hudson Ave. brought with it participation in a graduation feast for The Husband. In Mitchell, a new type of cuisine - baby food. Vancouver brought more baby food and lots of microwave popcorn for post-kids'-bedtime snacks. For awhile there we thought the microwave would last longer than the marriage it had heralded, but we rallied and worked things through over cups of tea reheated as necessary from its home in Steinbach. Our move back to Winnipeg meant the least counter space yet, so it was given pride of place on its own newly-constructed shelf. And now, Minneapolis, unbeknownst to us its final resting place.

We're not quite sure what finally did it. I was microwaving veggie bacon (mmm - Morningstar Farms - one of the best only-in-the-U.S. product lines we've found) and there was an arc and then...down to the basement, where it will remain until we figure out what to do with its empty shell.

This past week was our first back into usual routine - two kids back at school and two grown-ups back at work. I'm feeling a bit less blah than I was last week. I like routine; even if it's monotonous, it is familiar. And work is starting to get better. I still don't have a hot clue what I'm doing, but I know a bit more than I did last week.

Today was a lovely, lazy Saturday with cartoons, playing and a trip to the library. Some cleaning, too, so I can actually see the floor in some places.

And, to end off the evening, a campfire treat. We don't have a fireplace anymore, but that didn't stop us from making s'mores:

(Edited to change the date we got it from 1994 to 1995 - I was a child bride, but I did *not* get married the summer I graduated high school, thank you very much!)